


Like Lazarus

by HildegardBi



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Accidentally messed up the whole timeline, Alcohol Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Depression, Drug Addiction, Hurt Spencer Reid, Sad Spencer Reid, Supernatural Elements, Temporary Character Deaths, do not read if you're in a bad spot mentally
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:09:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25325923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HildegardBi/pseuds/HildegardBi
Summary: What happens when someone is brought back? Do they remember death? Do they change after they've died? Do they leave a piece of them behind? Or perhaps it's more of a metamorphosis. Maybe after dying, you're not quite the same.After dying at the hands of Charles and being brought back by the hands of Tobias, Reid still isn't sure.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	1. Resurrected

**Author's Note:**

> Slight canon divergence with the case they conduct after Reid's kidnapping. I've also realized that I totally forgot that he was kidnapped in season two before Will and JJ were dating and before Rossi existed. So as much as I'd love to add Gideon and Gideon leaving, that rewrite is for another day.
> 
> Yes, I do have two other works-in-progress, why do you ask?

When it happened, Reid didn't have time to think about it. Think about what it meant or how it changed things. How it changed how he saw the world.

The death itself was quiet, almost calm. But not the sudden quiet and darkness Reid expected. It was a gentle light, figures gathered around him, gently whispering. He tried to listen, hear what they were saying. Reid doesn't think he could have understood them even if they spoke loud enough for him to hear. And before he could ask them anything, he was back in the shed, staring at Tobias.

He didn't have time to think of it any further, just wrote it off as a drug induced dream. Focused on getting out alive. On hopefully saving Tobias. Because Tobias could be saved.

It wasn't until later, when he had time to talk to them team, that he realized he had actually died. And when they insisted he be seen by a doctor, it was confirmed. At the time of his dream, he was legally dead.

So what did that mean?

"New case," JJ says passing his desk towards the conference room. Reid gathers his bag and follows her. When he sticks his hand in his pocket, he feels the dilaudid there. It feels heavy in his hand. Approximately 26% of people who use pain killers misuse them, and about 8% of people who take opioids become addicted. Reid is part of those percentages.

Except its not his fault. It's not his fault, but he can't make himself blame Tobias. He was doing his best to help. He saved Reid. And when Reid had to shoot him... shoot Charles... it felt quiet. There was just quiet.

"You doing okay Reid?" Morgan asks.

 _He's just concerned._ "I'm fine," Reid snaps sitting down. He tries to relax, tries to release the tension in his muscles. Irritability is one of the symptoms of withdrawal. It's the one he struggles with the most. Not feeling like himself. Not having the patience for anyone, not even his team. The chills and nausea aren't fun, but he hates the irritability the most. Hates the feeling that he isn't in control. Hates the feeling of the itch in the back of his mind, reminding him this will go away with just a small dose. It wouldn't be so bad, right?

There's a folder in front of him. He focuses on that. "In the last two weeks, there have been six disappearances in Johnson County, Kansas." JJ pulls up six different images of young men and women. All appearing to be in their early twenties. Different hair colors, eye colors, body types, skin colors. "As of right now-"

_"Please! Please! Stop! STOP!!"_

Reid shakes his head, refocusing on JJ. Hotch suggested therapy, to help with possible symptoms of PTSD. Like flashbacks. But Reid doesn't need therapy. He'll be fine on his own. He can handle this.

"So only two bodies have been recovered? There's a chance four of them are still alive then," Prentiss says. She flips through the pages in front of her, outlining information on each victim and their disappearance. Reid does the same, looking at the photo of a young woman with red hair.

_"Leave her alone!" There's a woman with blonde hair, sitting in a chair, a man sitting across from her. Her eyes look past the man, locking onto him. She's shaking. The man ignores the woman yelling. "I'll take her place instead!"_

_A man's hand touches Spencer's shoulder, holding him back. He leans forward. "Don't antagonize him. You saw what he did to Shelly and Jack. We just have to-"_

"So both of the victims were drowned," Morgan says, his voice hard, "but they were both found in cemeteries?"

"Catholic cemeteries," JJ adds. She pulls up a picture of brunette woman lying with her hands folded over her stomach, holding a cross. "Shelly Rockaway was found at St. Patrick's cemetery and Jack Carraway was found at St. John's cemetery."

Reid jerks his head up, refocusing on JJ. On the slides in front of him.

That wasn't a flashback. Oh god, is he hallucinating now? Is this because of the dilaudid? Or is it... is he going to become like his mother?

But it's not a hallucination, is it? It was something totally else, more like a dream. The odds of having a hallucination involving all five senses are incredibly small... it must have just been a dream. He must have dosed off. He hasn't been sleeping well.

"So he's religiously motivated," Reid says softly. The team turns their eyes to him. They're thinking of Tobias, of Raphael. Reid knows it. Doesn't need to look at them to know they've made the connection. That they're wondering if he's ready for this case. "They died by drowning. What if he was trying to baptize them?"

"And they fought back?" Prentiss says.

Rossi nods slightly. "Or the drowning was a different type of baptism."

"Either way we have four people we can still find alive, and he'll be looking for another victim," Reid says. He closes his folder.

"What makes you so sure it's a man?" Morgan asks.

Reid blinks. Thinking to the... the dream he had. That felt real. He can't exactly say that. Or even say that it's a hunch. "It's usually a man," Reid says instead. But based on Morgan's face, he doesn't believe Reid. He probably thinks Reid is confusing this case with Tobias.

Hotch stands. "Well, we can discuss this more in the air. Wheels up in thirty."

"Were any of the victims Catholic?" Reid asks.

JJ consults her notes and answers, "It seems all the victims come from Catholic families, but none of them practiced religion after college."

"And do any of the victims live at home?" Rossi asks.

"Just Trevor Miller. He moved back home after a tree caused damage to his apartment building," JJ says.

"Garcia, look to see if any of the families have connections through the Catholic church or organizations. It's possible they might have mentioned that their child was losing faith in a service or group," Hotch says.

"Ay ay! On it captain!" Garcia ends her video call.

"When we land, Reid and Prentiss, I want you to go to the coroner. JJ and Morgan, I want you to question the families at the station. Rossi, you and I will go to both churches to check out the dump sites and ask around to see if anyone saw anything."

"Remember, the unsub is very religious. Most likely is an active member of their church and probably well liked by others," Rossi says. "It's most likely they're going to try to contact the families or churches. They might even set up a vigil or searches. Look out for anyone who is putting themselves in the middle of all this, especially if they have no personal relation to any of the victims."

There's a sense of dread that Reid's never felt before when he and Prentiss enter the morgue. This feeling of coldness that enters his chest. This buzzing in his ears like there's people talking that he can't quite hear.

The coroner greets them and gestures to the first table where Shelly Rockaway's body is. Reid's heart starts beating fast. He digs his nails into his hand, trying to hold on. If he doesn't hold on, he'll slip out of reality. To somewhere else.

"There are signs of a struggle on her body," the coroner says showing off bruises on her arms.

"Defensive wounds," Prentiss says.

Reid leans closer. "And the cause of death was drowning? Were there any other injuries?"

The coroner nods. "There's evidence of both victims being beaten." The coroner turns the body's head, revealing a black eye and a bloody mouth. They pull down the sheet covering the body, revealing more bruises on the torso. "Same on the other one, if you'd like to see."

Reid stares at the black eye on Shelly. Her brown hair is dirty, not like it was in the picture. Not like it was before this happened. He takes her wrist, turning it to look closer-

_"Repent sinner!" A man grabs her wrist, twisting his arm. "Repent your sins and you will be forgiven!"_

_"You killed her!" he yells. His voice is hoarse. It doesn't sound like him. "You killed Shelly"_

_"She was a sinner."_

_"She was my girlfriend!"_

_"Woman is not meant to be with woman. Repent and you will be forgiven."_

Reid drops the wrist stepping back. He looks to Prentiss, but she's busy examining the bruises on the face.

It was like he was seeing through someone else's eyes, experiencing something that was real... that someone else had experienced. He closes his eyes, thinking back to the memory. There was hair in front of his eyes. Red hair. Not like Shelly's. Red. "Gabrielle Jackson," he says softly.

"What did you say?" Prentiss asks, looking up at Reid. He fumbles for a second. There's no proof any of what he's seeing is real. That any of it can help with their case. "Spence." Prentiss gently pulls him away from the bodies, into the hallway outside of the morgue. "Are you okay?"

He's about to snap at her, deny that something's wrong, but his body slumps instead. "I'm not sure. Honestly, I just... I just want to solve this case, and I want to go home." Go home, go home and make it all go away.

Prentiss meets his eyes, and she has such an intense stare that Reid feels like she's not just profiling him, but staring straight into his mind. "Do you want to take a break?" she asks, her voice soft. Reid nods, surprising himself. "Alright, let's get you to the hotel."

As always, Reid has a few books to read, packed for the plane ride and to help him sleep at night when working a case. But he can't focus on them. He keeps getting flashes of the victims. Flashes that feel so real, he almost believes they are.

Images of being beaten, seeing it through the eyes of Gabrielle as the unsub punches her relentlessly, ignoring her cries of pain. Watching Trevor hold back Jill. Seeing Fred look away, his face pale.

It all feels too real. But it's just his mind putting himself into the victims. Morgan calls that empathy. Reid calls it terrifying.

The dilaudid is in his bag. There to use... to shut out these images. To have some quiet bliss...

Reid can't stop himself as he gets up and takes it from his bag. As he ties his belt around his arm and injects it into his veins. And as he sits there, unaware of the case, the images finally stopping... he feels peace.

_Reid can't breathe. He keeps his mouth shut, pushing back against the arms holding him underneath the water. He struggles against them, kicking his legs at the man trying to drown him. He fights, thrashing his body around, trying to get his head above water, even if just for a second._

_Moving becomes harder, his limbs feeling heavy. He fights the heaviness, the quiet, keeping his mouth tightly shut until against his will, his body gasps for air and takes in water._

_For a few seconds, his lungs hurt, until the pain gives way to peace._

Gabby's dead. He knows it before he gets the call. He stares at the picture of her body at the newest dump site, another Catholic church. Her red hair is brushed out. She's holding a cross as well.

If only he had something useful to say. Because he could see what was happening, could see through the eyes of the victim. Knows what the man looked like but doesn't know his name.

"Garcia, any connections yet?"

"All the families did attend a Catholic retreat that happened about two weeks, which was before the kidnappings started, but there's a huge list of people who attended, and you'll have to give me something more if you want any chance of narrowing it down," Garcia tells Hotch.

 _He's a white male. Early thirties._ Reid keeps his mouth shut.

"This man would be heavily involved, would probably attend a lot of other events. He'd be physically healthy. He'd have to be fairly social to be able to figure out which families had children who no longer practiced religion."

"Look for someone who went through foster care or was part of an abusive household," Reid adds. "He beats his victims as a way to get them to repent. Most likely the same was done to him."

Hotch raises an eyebrow at Reid, but doesn't question him. _That is something I shouldn't be able to profile based on the evidence,_ Reid realizes. But it's so similar to what Charles did to Tobias... to what Reid experienced... that maybe it won't seem too out of place.

Reid still hasn't decided if he's going crazy or not. He doesn't need his team thinking he's crazy as well.

"I've got eleven people who match that description," Garcia says. "One of them, Charles Sullivan, is a custodian at St. Patrick's. He's been through the foster care system. Goes to church every Sunday. Regularly volunteers at events. And he lives in a house smack dab in the middle of all the churches... Sending a picture and address now."

JJ pulls up the picture on her phone, and Reid looks at it, his heart dropping. It's the exact same man he saw in his dreams.

"Reid, JJ, and Morgan, you guys go together," Hotch orders. "Rossi, Prentiss, you're with me."

Spencer follows JJ and Morgan, sitting in the backseat of the van as Morgan drives to Sullivan's house, a few police cars trailing behind, Hotch's van in front of them.

There's a car in the driveway. Reid jumps out of the van. His whole body is shaking. He shouldn't have taken the dilaudid yesterday. The withdrawal is making all this so much shittier.

"Reid, JJ, take the front, Prentiss, and Morgan, go through the garage," Hotch says. "Our primary objective is to make sure that all of the people he'd kidnapped get out alive. He currently has three people we know of: Trevor Miller, Jill Hendricks, and Fred Jacobs. Getting them out safely is our first priority. Stealth is key. Once Sullivan realizes what's happening, there's a chance he could kill them. Move out."

Reid stays close to JJ. She smiles at him. She won't leave his side this time. He knows it.

He pulls his gun out, holding it at his side as they hurry to the front door. One of the officers with them unlocks the door, and JJ hurries in, Reid close behind. His heart is pounding. Whatever's happening to him, with the visions or whatever they are... this would be the worst time to have one. Hopefully it won't be a problem.

He works quickly, clearing rooms, the other agents and officers moving through the house.

"Nothing," Morgan says, relaxing as he approaches them. "We must be missing something."

Prentiss follows, holstering her gun. "Maybe we have the wrong guy?"

"His car's in the driveway," Reid says. "He has to be home."

"Maybe he went for a walk. It's a nice day,"" JJ says.

Hotch approaches with Rossi. "Call Garcia and see if there are any other properties in his name. Or if there's any abandoned properties near-by."

Reid holsters his gun. He looks around the room, trying to feel if anything's familiar. _Show me something._ Spencer stares at the wall, at the collection of crosses on it. It's a small property. A kitchen, living room, a garage, and a bedroom and bathroom upstairs.

His heart is pounding. Something in him knows this is the right place. Knows this has to be the right place. Not because of profiling, but because of a feeling. Reid's had gut feelings before, hunches that helped solve a case. This is different. It's like something in his mind is screaming at him, trying to get him to find something.

 _"Stay. Quiet."_ _A hand covers his mouth. "Any of you speak, and I will not give him a chance to repent." There are footsteps above, dust falling from the floorboards. Trevor stares at him. Jill's hands are clenched. He wants them to say something, do something. Help is right upstairs. They're so close to getting out of this._

Reid jumps up, staring down at the floor. There's a carpet covering the wood, and in one corner, part of the carpet is curled up, just slightly. He walks towards it, pulling it up.

"Guys," he whispers. Underneath the carpet, is a trapdoor.

Hotch walks over. "Good work Reid." He kneels next the trapdoor. "On three." The rest of the team gathers around. Reid wipes the sweat off his hands and takes his gun out of the holster. "One. Two. Three." Hotch opens the trapdoor, and Reid runs down the stairs, Morgan close behind.

"FBI!" he yells.

"Freeze!" Morgan yells.

Sullivan is holding Fred. He sees the guns pointed at him. "This people are sinners," Sullivan says. His voice is even.

Morgan holsters his gun. Reid lowers his. He doubts Sullivan will listen to reason. "Sinners need to repent and confess, make peace with their mistakes," Morgan says. His voice is hard. "Killing them is not the solution."

"God does not want us to live in sin," Sullivan says. He tightens his grip around Fred's neck.

For a second, everything flips. He sees his team through Fred's eyes, sees himself staring blankly forward, his skin white. Sees Morgan slowly approaching Sullivan.

It flips back just as quickly. "It is the individual's duty to repent," Morgan says. His voice has softened slightly. "There is only so much you can do to help a sinner."

Sullivan stares at Morgan, and slowly releases Fred. Fred collapses to the ground, and before anyone can stop him, Reid rushes forward. "You'll be okay," he whispers.

"I have done what I can to serve God. I will die in his name."

"Stop!" Morgan hurries forward, Reid covers Fred with his body, wincing as he hears the gunshot, as he watches Sullivan's body collapse to the ground, blood rushing from it.

Just like when Tobias died, he feels peace. Quiet.

He helps Fred up, supporting him as he takes him to an ambulance. "We're not really sinners, right?" Fred whispers. "Did we... did we really bring this on ourselves?"

"He perverted Catholicism to excuse his actions. Do you believe in God Fred?" Spencer asks.

Fred shrugs and says, "I'm not sure. There has to be something bigger than us... but I'm not sure."

"All you can do is be a good person," Reid says. "You didn't do anything to bring this on yourself, and you didn't deserve it." Reid helps Fred sit down in the back of the ambulance. Fred's eyes are wide, his body shaking. "It's gonna be okay, you'll make it through this." Reid clears his throat and smiles slightly. "I promise, I went through something similar. It gets better."

Fred nods. Reid squeezes his shoulder and walks over to JJ. He hugs her, taking in a deep breath.

"Are you alright Reid?" She wraps her arms around him.

Reid nods, tears forming in his eyes. "I will be. But empathy is awful."

JJ laughs. "Definitely makes the job harder."

Reid laughs too. He wants to tell her. Tell her what he actually means, what he's actually seen.

She wouldn't believe him though, and why would she?

JJ steps back, staring at Reid. "JJ." His voice is soft. He wipes the tears from his eyes.

"Yea Spence?"

He reaches into his bag, hand closing around the vials. It'd be better to give them to her. It would help him stay clean, maybe make this go away.

Instead, he smiles at her, his hand letting go of the vials, leaving them be in his bag. "Thank you."


	2. Research

Usually, Spencer loves research. He loses himself in it. There have been days where all he's done is research, and he has to remind himself to take a break to eat. He can spend hours reading books about different serial killers or behind the scenes stories from Star Trek. He can get lost in the resource section of the library.

This is different though. For once, he doesn't know where to start. Reid doesn't even know what he's supposed to be researching. The development of psychic abilities after being legally dead?

With how many people in the world there are, someone else must have experienced something similar. In the United States, approximately 12,000 people each year are declared legally dead and are able to be revived. Odds are that at least one other person has to have had a similar experience.

For once, the library doesn't feel like the place to go. But it's the only place he knows where to start. He could ask Penelope for help with researching this online. Of everyone on the team, she would be the most likely to believe him.

Reid takes a deep breath. Not yet. He'll see what he can find on his own first. Spencer grabs his bag, pausing for a second. The vials are still in there. He should take them out, leave them home.

Instead, he just walks out the door towards the library.

When Spencer walks into the library, he feels calm for the first time in days. A different kind of calm than the dilaudid gives him. It's a familiar feeling though. One he misses. He can do research. He can focus on research, and he can lose everything else for a while.

He examines the catalog, scanning through it for something that relates to being revived or psychic abilities. There's a few things that stick out: a book documenting different people who claim to have psychic abilities, a biography about a family who claimed their child went to heaven and came back, a book explaining the science behind psychic abilities (a book Reid would have claimed as pseudo science previously but now he isn't sure).

These three books feel like a decent starting point. He finds them on the shelves and settles into a chair in the back of the library, hidden behind the shelves.

Reid starts with the child who went to heaven. It's a bit hard to believe. The family claims the child knew more than he should about history and people who died in their family, but children absorb more information than most people realize. Besides, even if it was real, the child only knew about things that happened, not things that were happening or were going to happen. He puts the book to the side.

He's curious how science can be used to explain psychic abilities, so he picks up that book next. As he expected, it's not fully rooted in science but more in theories about spirituality. It doesn't have any data or research to back up its claims. Reid sets it on top of the other book. He takes a deep breath. There are other books. If the last one doesn't help, he can find more books.

There's no way to know how much of the last book is true. There are the usual stories of psychics and mediums who were born with abilities that let them see the future or communicate with spirits. After scanning through most of the chapters, Reid finds one that resonates with him.

_After his fall from the ladder, Daniel Jones was in a coma for several days. Several of the nurses who tended to him admitted to doubting that he would recover. Jones did recover and wake from his coma after six days; however, when he woke, he saw the world differently._

_"There was this feeling I had when I woke up," Jones said. "It's hard to explain, but it was like I could feel energy all around me. Like static electricity, but... different. At first I thought it was because I had just woken up from a coma. But I kept having these feelings I wasn't alone and that I could sense someone with me. A lot of times it was the same person, but sometimes the feeling would be different, and I would know it was someone else._

_"My aunt has always believed in psychic_ _abilities and goes to a psychic once a year. She was the one who suggested I find a medium to talk to. So I found a medium with good reviews, and I made an appointment. When I got to the appointment, I told the medium about what I'd been experiencing. She explained to me that when I was in the coma, I had made the choice to come back, the choice to stay alive. And because I made this choice, because I came back, I was more connected to the spiritual world."_

Reid closes the book. _Did I make the choice to come back?_ He's not sure. Maybe he needs to find someone to talk to. Spencer gathers the books in his arms and deposits them in the drop box. He hurries out the door towards his home. His heart is pounding, his hands feel numb.

As soon as he closes his apartment door behind him, he has the dilaudid out. He stares at the vial, biting his lip. Reid wants to throw it, shatter it against the wall. Get rid of it, make it so he can't give in.

Instead, he takes off his belt and ties it around his arm.

 _Don't do this._ Reid's hand shakes. He loses his grip around the vial, letting it drop to the floor. It clinks, but it doesn't shatter.

He falls against the wall, removing the belt from his arm. Reid holds his head in his hands, pressing his fingers into his temples. _You're stronger than this._

 _No, I'm not. I'm not strong enough._ His whole body trembles. Spencer's sweating. He pulls out his phone. All he has to do is call someone, ask them to come over. Any of the team would rush over if he asked. If he said what was going on.

It's not like they don't know about the dilaudid. Of course they do. But they won't say anything unless he does first. Not unless they think he's in danger.

 _I'm strong enough._ Reid stares at the wall. "I'm strong enough." He pushes himself up. He dials JJ.

"Spence? What's up?"

He sighs. "Hey JJ. Can you just... stay on the line with me for a bit?"

"Course. Is everything alright?"

He grabs the dilaudid from the floor. And the second vial from his bag. It's all he has. "Yea, just..." He hesitates. Everything in his body is screaming at him to stop, to put back the vials. Save them for when he needs them.

Spencer hears rustling as JJ adjusts the phone. "Do you want me to come over?"

"No, I just... I think I just needed to hear your voice." Reid walks towards the bathroom. He removes the lid from the first vial.

"Alright. Do you want to talk about anything?"

Reid takes a deep breath. He pours it out into the toilet and throws the vial into the sink. It cracks this time.

"Spence? What was that?"

He stares at the second vial in his hand. This is it. He just has to get rid of this. "Knocked something over. It's fine. Everything's fine."

JJ takes a deep breath. "Are you sure you don't want me to come over?"

What would he say if she came over? Even without how confused he is about what's happening to him, how can he talk to her about the dilaudid? About how he's been using it for the past few days, on and off? Trying to stop, but not being strong enough. He's not strong enough.

"Spence." JJ's voice is hard.

"Yea," Spencer sticks the vial back in his pocket. He stands and leaves the bathroom. "Meet me at the coffee shop downtown?"

"Do you want me to stay on the line until you get there?" Her voice is soft again. Gentle. She's scared, worried for him.

Honestly, Reid is too.

"I'll be fine JJ. See you in a bit?" Reid smiles. He doesn't know why. He doesn't have to fake it yet, he's still alone.

He's alone.

"See you in a bit."


	3. Faking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: addiction and PTSD

When Reid walks in, JJ is already sitting at a table with two coffees. Reid smiles at her, gripping his bag tightly. He should have left the vial at home.

"Hey JJ," he says. He sits down and takes a sip of the coffee. It's still hot. She hasn't been waiting long. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Of course Spence." She tilts her head slightly, waiting for him to say something. JJ won't ask him what's wrong yet. She'll give him time to say it himself. There's a chance she already knows about the dilaudid.

He holds his coffee between both hands. The mug is warm. He focuses on that. _Tell her. Tell her that you want help._ "JJ." He says her name softly, looking at the mug between his hands, not looking up at her. _I died and it changed me_.

"Spence?" JJ says. She reaches over and squeezes his hand. He looks up at her. She looks so concerned. For him. Because something is actually wrong with him. Spencer's skin itches.

"I never-" His voice cracks. He clears his throat and takes a sip of coffee. "I never really let myself have time to think about it. What happened." JJ watches him, her eyes focused on him. He looks down at his coffee again. "I figured if I focused on work, if I threw myself into a case, that I'd feel better. I feel more like myself." His voice breaks again. He doesn't really feel like himself, does he? And he's not the same. Look at him- he's taking dilaudid. He's researching psychic abilities because he's getting visions through other people's eyes. He's not the same. Not anymore.

JJ squeezes his hand again. Reid flinches, then relaxes. It's JJ. She's the same. "I don't... I'm not the same anymore JJ. And that... scares me. Not knowing who I am right now. Not remembering how to be myself."

"Spence..." He shakes his head, pushing his hair back.

"I just feel like... there are times where I feel like myself, where I remember who I am and how I act and feel, but they're rare." Spencer takes in a deep breath. "I know this is normal with trauma. I know that. And I know that I just have to go through the motions for a while-"

"Spence, you need to let yourself deal with this," JJ says. Spencer stares at her. She doesn't interrupt unless what she has to say is important. Unless what she has to say needs to be heard and she knows that she's right. "You had something really traumatic happen to you, and I know we see a lot with what we do... but it's different when it happens to you." She blinks. There are tears in her eyes. Reid rubs at his head. When she speaks again, her voice is softer. "You were kidnapped-" Spencer's grip tightens around the mug. "And I know that you cared about Tobias. I know you wanted to save him." Spencer blinks his eyes. Before he can wipe it away, a tear slips down his cheek.

"He did what he could to protect me. He cared about me. He... he didn't deserve the life he had." Reid remembers the moment Tobias died. When he... when he had to shoot him to stop Charles. How... how Tobias thanked him. How when he died... Reid felt peace. "He... he thanked me, JJ." JJ takes in a deep breath and squeezes his hand before letting go. She pulls a tissue from her bag and hands it to him. Spencer wipes his eyes and holds the tissue in his hands, rubbing it between his thumb. "When he died... when I... when I shot him. He thanked me JJ." Spencer chokes, holding back more tears. He can't cry in a coffee shop. He wipes the tears away with the tissue and blows his nose. "What we do... sometimes it's so hard."

"I know."

 _I want to tell you JJ. I want you to take the dilaudid. I want to tell you about what I saw and I want you to come with me to a psychic or a therapist depending on whether or not you think I've lost my fucking mind._ "Thank you," Spencer says. He clears his throat. "For listening."

"Of course Spence, I'm always here for you." JJ's eyes stay on him. She doesn't smile. Her eyes are red and teary.

She would help him. If he just could tell her, she would help him. Why can't he tell her?! Or even just show her. Ask her to come over. She'd help clean up the glass. She'd sit with him. She'd listen. She could help.

He holds his mug. It's still warm. He takes a gulp of it, focusing on the taste of it. JJ sits across from him. They stay at the table, neither speaking, just existing together. It's a kind of quiet Spencer hasn't felt for a while. A kind of peace that is actually his.

He can do it. He can tell her. It'd be so easy. He can do it.

Spencer sips from his cup. There's not much coffee left. He'll tell her before he finishes his coffee. That gives him time to work up the nerve, plan out what he wants to stay.

They sit together, Spencer taking a sip from his coffee every so often. It's almost empty. His hands shake.

He can't do it.

Reid gulps the rest of the coffee down and puts the mug down on the table. He smiles at JJ. "Thank you, really JJ. I feel a bit better, just talking about it a bit." _Liar._ "I'm gonna head home now."

JJ smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Like I said Spence, I'm always here for you."

He stands up, putting his bag over his shoulder. He gives her a slight nod and heads out the door.

His heart pounds. He couldn't do it. He can't do it. He can't do this. He can't keep doing this. Reid presses against his head, trying to calm his breathing. He starts walking faster, hurrying to get home.

When Reid opens the door into his apartment, he takes a deep breath. His body shudders. He still has one vial. If he just... it would only need to be a bit. It would calm him down. He'll feel better.

He takes the vial from his bag, staring at him.

It'll make him feel better. It'll be okay.

It's just one more time.

He holds his breath as he readies himself. As he gets the syringe, as he ties his belt around his arm, as he cleans the spot...

For the first time in days, he takes in a deep breath and his body relaxes. He sinks into his couch staring at the ceiling. He stares at the ceiling and smiles.

He shouldn't have done it. He should've been stronger. Goddamit! He shouldn't have done that!

Reid presses his hand into his head, wincing at the headache. He takes another sip from his cup, his hands shaking.

Morgan looks up from his work. "You okay Reid?"

"I'm fine," Reid says. He rubs his head again, trying to focus on the case in front of him. His eyes refuse to focus on the words. The vial's still in his bag. It's been a twi days since...

All he has to do is go a few more days. A few more days and he'll make it through the withdrawal. He can do that.

"Reid, seriously, you look like hell," Morgan says, his voice soft.

"You think I don't know that?!" Reid snaps, glaring at Morgan. Morgan looks surprised... and scared? Not concerned... actually scared.

 _He doesn't recognize me._ Reid's body shakes, his skin feeling hot. He looks down at his work, ignoring Morgan. Ignoring everyone else who must be watching him because Reid isn't someone who yells. He isn't someone who gets angry.

He doesn't know who he is. Not right now. He can't remember how to be the Reid who would ramble on about anything and everything. The Reid who would smile and laugh and talked to people and who wanted to know everything he possibly could. The Reid who had energy to do research after work.

Reid takes a deep breath. His heart is pounding. He reaches into the bag, hand closing around the vial. It's changing him. He knows it's not just the trauma, it's not just suddenly becoming psychic. Spencer puts the vial in his pocket, his hand staying closed around it as he tries to read. The words are blurry. He can't read through one page without getting a headache.

It's just withdrawal. It'll be over in a few days.

Spencer stands up, his legs shaking as he walks to the bathroom. When the door finally closes behind him, he feels quiet for a second. He can do this.

The door opens behind him. "Reid?" Morgan stands there, his brows furrowed.

"Morgan." Reid stares at Morgan, his muscles tensing up.

"I know you need space right now, but I just wanted to make sure you weren't sick." Spencer looks at his reflection. There's sweat on his forehead. His eyes have dark spots underneath them, and his skin looks pale and almost yellow. He stares at himself for the first time in a while. "Are you okay man?"

Reid takes a deep breath, still staring at his reflection. This isn't him. This won't be him. "Can you... can you do something for me?" Reid whispers. He turns to look at Morgan.

Morgan stares at him for a second, then nods. "Of course Reid. What do you need?"

Reid reaches into his pocket. His heart is pounding. Some part of his brain is yelling at him to stop, that he can turn back. He pulls out the vial, holding it out in his hand. Morgan stares at it, his face not changing. Reid licks his lips, his mouth feeling dry. "I want to stop Morgan," he whispers. His voice cracks. "I've been trying to tell someone, and I know you all know anyway because we're all profilers and there's no way you guys wouldn't be able to tell, and I just don't feel like myself anymore and I just... I want to feel like myself."

Morgan's face softens. He takes the vial from Reid and slips it into his own pocket. Reid blinks his eyes, his vision blurring. He takes a deep breath, his heart pounding. Spencer sobs, grabbing at his head.

Why did he do that?! He shouldn't have given it away, he can't get more now, wouldn't be able to even if he tried. He looks like a narc, what dealer is going to trust him? He's fucked himself over and now-

"Hey." Morgan grabs Reid's shoulder. Reid sobs again as Morgan hugs Reid close. "I'm proud of you kid." Reid hugs Morgan back, burying his face in Morgan's shoulder. He tries to calm his breathing, tries to slow it down. Spencer lets out another sob, his shoulders trembling. "It's okay. I got you kid." He holds Morgan close as he tries to take a breath and chokes on it. Morgan holds him tight as Reid tries to steady his breathing.

He doesn't have to pretend. He doesn't have to hide. It was useless anyway. Reid pulls away. Morgan grabs some paper towel and hands it to Reid. Spencer wipes his face and blows his nose. "Morgan." His voice cracks. "Thank you. Really, thank you."

Morgan smiles slightly, his eyes crinkling slightly. "If you need anything, you call me, okay? I'll be there in a heartbeat."

Spencer laughs, smiling back. "Trust me Morgan, I know."

"I really am proud of you Reid." Spencer looks at Morgan, and for the first time in a while, he doesn't worry about what expression he's showing. He doesn't worry about trying to hide himself. Reid wipes at his eyes again, taking a deep breath. He's still smiling- actually smiling. It kind of hurts his face, smiling like this, but he feels like himself. Not like he used to. He might not feel that way ever again. But this is okay. He can do this.


	4. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot promise regular updates, but I am going to finish this.

Being at home was worse. He took off earlier, upon Morgan's insistence, but he couldn't focus on anything. His skin was too itchy, his mouth too dry, and his mind felt like it was moving too fast and too slow. Reid was used to moving around and fidgeting. Somehow, this was different. This was worse.

He tried to read, but the words were too blurry and he couldn't care about what was on the page. In his mind, he replayed giving the last vial to Morgan. He could try to find another... find a dealer maybe...

No. He was going to do this. Just a few more days. Reid poured himself a glass of water and took an ibuprofen to help with his headache. Even though he didn't do much, he went to bed early, but he kept waking up drenched in sweat and crying. Maybe it was nightmares, the things that were making him cry. He didn't know and didn't care.

So rather than stay home the next few days, he went to work. Everyone was a bit different to him. Or maybe he was different to them... or just... different.

Morgan didn't joke with him as much. Hotch was more patient with him. Prentiss would ask him about things she didn't care about like trivia about Dr. Who until it became a ritual for her to ask him for a fun fact every time she took a break. JJ would tell him about how Henry missed him and invited him over to see Henry and have dinner, but he didn't want to see his godson until he was more himself... or more stable or whatever. Rossi even came in one morning with a container filled with pasta for Reid to eat. And Garcia would religiously bring Reid coffee.

Spencer knew he was more impatient with them, with himself. He tried to take deep breaths and think before reacting whenever something ticked him off. _This is temporary._ Working helped, even if it was harder to focus. It gave him a routine, and he took coffee breaks or walks whenever it was too much. He often stayed later than he should because he was afraid of being alone. Of what he might do. All of the symptoms of withdrawal would go away with a small dose... but it would also go away with time and that was less temporary.

By the end of the week, he wakes up without a headache and not drenched in sweat. There was still this itch, but it was in the back of his mind. This reminder of what it felt like... how free he was...

Reid takes a deep breath, pushing the thought away. If he feels more alive than he has since... since Tobias... it may be worth it to leave it behind. He just has to remember that.

Spencer gets in earlier that day than he has all week. Hotch isn't even in yet, which is unusual. Reid lets himself get lost in the paperwork, sorting through cases and making notes as needed.

"Looking good pretty boy," Morgan says smiling at Reid.

"I'm feeling good too," Reid says grinning back.

JJ and Prentiss enter the bullpen, talking and laughing. "Here you go Reid," JJ says putting a coffee on his desk. "Penelope says hello."

Spencer takes the coffee and sips it. "And I tell Penelope thank you. I have to find out where she gets this coffee."

"She makes it herself," Prentiss says sitting down in her chair. "I'm ninety percent sure she has a coffee machine hidden in her office that's better than ours."

Reid smiles mischievously. "I'll have to find out for sure." Prentiss rolls her eyes. "JJ, are you still okay if I come over for dinner tonight? It has been too long since I've seen Henry."

JJ's eyes light up and she smiles. "He will be so happy to see you, Spence," she says leaning down to hug him.

"Uh oh... looks like trouble," Morgan says nodding to Hotch's office.

The door opens, and Hotch calls out, "Meeting room, now."

"Guess dinner will have to wait," JJ says smiling sadly.

Reid smiles back. "Our luck had to run out eventually. It's been too long without a case." He gathers his coffee and bag and heads to the meeting room. There's a second of panic, where he reaches into his bag to make sure the dilaudid is hidden and safe. His heart pounds when he realizes what he's doing. When he realizes he's looking for it.

 _Deep breath in._ He takes his seat, watching as Penelope scurries in and hands him a file. He nods in thanks.

"Alright, buckle up because this case is a doozy." She pulls up images on the screen of four little girls. "In the last two weeks, four little girls have gone missing in Kansas City, Nebraska. Three of them have been found so far." She switches the screen and Spencer winces at the images of three bodies disposed of carelessly, all on roadsides. "Now, based on this, it seems he keeps them alive for longer, so there's a chance of Tara Adams being alive. Tara was last seen yesterday."

"All four girls are between the ages of 9 and 11 and have brown hair and brown eyes, so he definitely has a preference," Prentiss says.

Spencer examines the photo of Tara Adams. Maybe he'll be able to see something that'll help. "It's unusual for a kidnapper to keep young girls alive for so long. And it doesn't seem like they're trying to flee with them."

"Most likely a man then," JJ says. "Is there any indication of sexual assault?" She clears her throat after asking.

Garcia shakes her head rapidly. "No, no indication."

"Then these girls represent something to him. Maybe innocence, someone he lost?" Rossi says.

"We can discuss more details on the jet," Hotch says. His fingers are fidgeting with his tablet. These cases are the hardest. "They should have called us in sooner, but they didn't realize the connection. In this case, it seems we'll have more than 48 hours to find and recover Tara, but we cannot waste anytime. Wheels up in thirty."

Reid gathers his bag and file, still keeping the image of Tara Adams in his mind. The first time he did it was an accident... how can he do it on purpose? Or was he just imagining things because of the dilaudid?

Maybe it's because she's not under stress... or because she's already dead.

Reid flips through the file, even though he's already read it several times and could have repeated it verbatim after the first time reading it. "When we land, JJ and Prentiss, I want you to meet with the victims families. See if there's anything they can remember that'll help us," Hotch says. "He's taken his victims from families with different socioeconomic backgrounds. His first victim, Josephine Phillips, was from a poorer part of town. Parents worked full time. Easier target. Next two victims were from wealthier families. One, Angelie Santiago, went missing on her walk back from the school, which is about three blocks from her family's house. Hannah Pelton was taken sometime between riding her bike to from her house to her friends house. Tara Adams went missing when she was playing in her front yard while her father was at work and her mother was making dinner.

"Reid and Morgan, I want you to stop at the coroners. We have the reports already, but maybe there's something you can learn there that'll help. It's not far from the station, so when you're done, Reid, work on a geographical profile, and Morgan, work on victimology. There's a reason he's targeting these girls, and if we can figure that out, we can figure out who he is."

Reid nods, but he doesn't look up from the file. If he keeps focusing, he'll see what Tara sees. That's how it works, right? That's how it worked the first few times. Seeing a picture or someone they were connected to. Maybe... maybe in the morgue.

He shivers slightly at that thought. Of the young girls. "Are you alright Reid?" Hotch asks. He's always intense, but Reid sometimes wonders if he can see into other's minds. The thought seems less crazy now.

"I hate these cases," Reid says softly. "It's hard to walk into the morgue and see someone so young..."

JJ brushes her hair back. She looks down for a second, thinking of Henry most likely. Prentiss touches JJ's shoulder gently and says, "That's why we have to work cases like this. To make sure it happens to no one else."

"We have a good chance of recovering Tara in time, and saving other young girls by catching the unsub," Hotch says. "Will you be alright to go to the morgue with Morgan? If not-"

"I'll be alright," Reid interrupts. It may be his best chance to connect to Tara, if his theory is right. Then again, he's not even sure if he has a working theory on how this works yet. He examines her picture again. There's nothing.

There's this smell all morgues have. It always smells clean, but in the most chemical way. Morgan asks questions as Reid examines the bodies. There's evidence of the girls being tied up. Cause of death is blunt force trauma. All of them were beaten to death.

His hand shakes as he gently touches Josephine's body. He waits for his vision to change, but nothing happens. Reid's stomach turns. He lets Morgan absorb the information, take the lead.

When they leave and get outside, Reid takes a deep breath. It smells like grass. Not fresh cut grass, which smells so strong because the grass is releasing chemicals to repair itself. Just like grass and fresh air.

"You alright kid?" Morgan asks.

"Hate it," Reid says. He gags slightly. Morgan puts his hand on Spencer's back and rubs it as Spencer throws up into a bush. Reid spits into the bush when he's done and rubs his mouth with a tissue. His stomach still is churning. Sometimes emptying the contents of the stomach as a response to anxiety can actually lessen anxiety. He doesn't feel better though.

"Do you want me to drop you off at the hotel? Get some rest?"

Reid shakes his head. "I need to work on the profile, Morgan."

Morgan keeps his hand on Spencer's back and leads him to the car. Reid's whole body is shaking. He stops again just before the car and hunches over, dry heaving. "Kid, get some rest. Garcia can help with the geographical profile. It's a smaller area to work with than some of our other cases."

"Just for a bit," Reid agrees. "An hour, and then I want to come back."

"In an hour on the dot, I'll be back to pick you up," Morgan agrees helping Reid into the car. Reid nods, taking in a deep breath through his nose.

Morgan drives slower than usual. For most of the ride, Reid presses his hands into his eyes, blocking out the light as a stress headache starts. His stomach feels too empty, but it's cramping on him. He's dehydrated and needs to drink water, but if he tries, he thinks he'll throw up again. He forces himself to sip water slowly. It goes down easier than he expects.

Morgan stops the car. "Let me know if you need more time. Otherwise, I'll be back in _exactly_ an hour." He winks at Reid, and Reid laughs.

He exits the car slowly and goes up to the room he'll share with Morgan tonight. He throws the bed cover on the chair- they never wash those-, washes his hands and face, and lays down in the bed. It's soft and smells clean, which is nice and surprising. He hates staying where thousands of strangers have been.

He takes a deep breath, and refocuses on the case. If he didn't see anything, does that mean Tara's dead? It doesn't fit with the profile. It's more likely she's asleep. That would make sense.

Reid pulls the sheets up, shivering slightly. The room is cold. They always have the air up too high. There's a reason room temperature exists, and it's to prevent people from freezing.

He opens his eyes, freezing. It's not the hotel he's seeing.

_He's in the backseat of a car, and the air is blowing directly on him. His body is shaking, and he rubs his hands up and down his eyes, tears coming down his eyes as the door opens and a man- about five foot eight, brown hair, blue eyes, average build, no facial hair, about forty most likely- grabs him, pulling him out. They're in a garage._

Reid pleads silently with Tara. _Look at the plate. Look at the license plate._

_He doesn't know if she hears her, but as she stumbles, he catches a glance at the license plate. Enough to memorize it._

_"Come on,"_ _the man says pulling Reid towards a door. He's shoved through, into a house. "We're gonna be staying here for now."_

Reid sits up, breathing heavy. He grabs the hotel phone, dialing star 67 followed by the police station.

He doesn't recognize the voice that answers. "I saw a man with a little girl in his car. She fits the description of Tara. I couldn't follow him, but I got the license plate." He rattles it off.

"Sir, would you be alright with coming in to give more-?" He hangs up.

Reid covers his face, laughing slightly. He waits for the call from Morgan, to let him know they've found the man through an anonymous tip. It should take about forty-five seconds for one of the team to find out, and about three more minutes for them to get in touch with Garcia and find a name and address. Instead of delivering a profile, they can give a name.

They can save Tara.

Reid laughs louder, wiping tears from his eyes. His phone rings faster than he expects. He clears his throat and answers. "It's not even been an hour Morgan," he says, keeping his voice as even as he can.

"We got an anonymous tip, and we have a possible address for the unsub. We're heading out to check it out. Are you up to coming?"

Reid covers his mouth before he laughs again. "Yea, I'll be out front if you have time to pick me up."

"You're on the way. Rossi, Prentiss, and JJ are on their way too."

Reid grabs his shoes, hanging up without a goodbye. He whoops to himself as he opens the door and runs down the stairs and to the front of the building. He bounces in place, trying to relax his smile. It's not over until they get Tara out alive. The chances are good, but something can always go wrong.

Morgan pulls up, and Reid opens the door and jumps in before Morgan has time to stop. "Glad you're feeling better Reid," Hotch says turning around. "The unsub is a man named James Earl, and he lost his daughter Megan seven years ago. About a month ago, his wife divorced him. These girls are substitutes for his daughter, and when they break the fantasy, he disposes of them. Primary objective is getting Megan to safety."

Reid nods, tapping his fingers on his legs. He closes his eyes, trying to reconnect, but there's nothing new. Which is maybe good?

"Here we are." Morgan breaks suddenly and throws the car into park. The three of them jump out. JJ, Prentiss, and Rossi are already outside the building.

Hotch nods at them. "I'll take the front with Rossi. JJ and Prentiss go around back. Morgan and Reid, cover the perimeter." The team breaks apart. Morgan takes the front yard and Reid goes to the back. Some officers come with them both. Reid bounces on his heels, mentally imagining where Tara is.

JJ and Prentiss enter quietly. It's always hard not knowing what's happening. But if it means Tara's okay... that's good.

He focuses on the house, on all possible points of entry and exit. He tries to stay still but ends up pacing around the yard until the door opens and JJ comes out holding Tara in her arms.

Reid runs towards them before he can stop himself. "We got him," JJ says smiling. Tara's face is covered in tears, but she's clean and she looks like she's been cared for. Spencer wraps his arms around them both, laughing and crying at the same time. "You're gonna be okay hun."

In terms of child abduction, it's one of the better cases. Tara's family is more than grateful to have her home. The other families have peace of mind, but it'll still be hard for them. One of the most difficult things to happen to a family is losing a child.

But one family didn't.

Reid feels light all of the ride home. They've barely been away a full day. The team seems happy. It worked out.

He stops at his desk before going home, organizing some of his stuff and putting away the file. The others, aside from Hotch, opted to go home instead.

"Spencer Reid." Reid turns around, smiling at Garcia. Her face is nervous, but she's trying to look tough. He slouches into himself. "You and I need to have a talk."


	5. Discovered

Reid follows Garcia to her office, his heart pounding. There's a chance she's concerned about how he was sick earlier. Derek probably told her, and maybe she thinks it was a withdrawal. Maybe she thinks that he's using it again.

She holds the door open for him, and he walks in, not sure where to go. It's not often she has anyone in here. There's little gadgets and fake flowers and knick-knacks of all colors on her desk. There's her favorite pen that's end is covered with feathers and her squishy stress toy, the orange one with all the floppy spikes that she never lets anyone touch. She always holds it on the worst cases. The ones where one of their team is in trouble.

Penelope closes the door and sits in her chair. It moves back a little, the wheels sliding on the floor. "Did you know I started monitoring calls to police stations where you guys are located? After several times an anonymous caller could've given more information than they offered? Or the times where the caller was the actual _heathen_ who decided it was okay to-to terrorize others for their own sick reasons?"

Reid's hand twitches. He tries to keep his face even. "Considering the amount of anonymous callers that stations get, that makes sense. But is it legal?"

Penelope waves her hand. "Half of what I do for this job isn't technically legal." Reid chuckles slightly at that, and despite herself, Garcia smiles before her face hardens again. "You already know I can track calls easily, even calls from _restricted numbers_."

Spencer clears his throat. "Is there, uh, something about the anonymous caller from the case-?"

"Oh, stop it!" Penelope squeals. She grabs her stress ball and holds it tightly between her hands. "You, you are an awful liar sometimes." Reid stares at her and swallows slowly. "Spencer... I know you made the call."

His voice is higher than normal when he says, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"And what's even _weirder_ is I know for a **fact** that you were at the hotel when you made the call. And that because you weren't feeling well, you most likely _weren't_ out for a walk. And what I _really_ don't get is _why_ you didn't call us directly if you knew something." She's spinning slightly in the chair, talking faster.

Reid licks his lips. The room feels hot. "Penelope..."

She slams the ball on the desk and it wiggles as she does. " _What_ are you hiding from us Spencer? From me? I know... I _know_ things have been hard for you since Tobias, and I know... Derek told me." Reid freezes, his body still. "Oh, don't give me that look! We all knew anyways, and you know that!" She points at him, her finger shaking. She is right. Spencer knew it wasn't exactly a secret. "And I'm _so so_ proud of you, but if something else is going on, you need to trust-"

"I think I'm psychic." Spencer says it before he can stop himself, the words spilling out.

Penelope stares at him for a second before picking the stress ball back up and squeezing it rapidly. "Oh dear god. You're not joking?" He shakes his head and shrugs slightly. "You're not joking. _Psychic?"_

"It started after Tobias," Reid says. "The first case I worked... I kept seeing things, from the... the victims perspectives. And I knew I wasn't going crazy because everything I saw matched the case. And then with this case, I thought it'd be the same, but I didn't see anything until I was at the hotel. And I can't tell what they're feeling or thinking or anything. I can only see what they see and I'm not even sure if they know I'm there or not, and I don't understand _what_ it is but I think it's because I died, but it could change things, Penelope." He smiles at her. "I solved the case today. And I know, I know." He adjusts his collar. "Part of that was luck. I know it won't always be like that. But if it helps, even if means... means seeing..." His face falls and he shudders as he closes his eyes. Images flash through, water, blood, the face of Tobias.

Penelope has her arms wrapped around him before he realizes what's happening. "Oh, Spencer, honey!" He hugs her back slightly. The feathers on her jacket tickle his face and he wrinkles his nose. She steps back, keeping her arms on his shoulders. "That's... that's so much to deal with."

"I just... I want to understand it. I think I need a mentor? Another psychic, but I didn't know how to find one, especially one that's reliable-"

"Say no more!" Garcia slips back into her chair and turns to the computer. She types rapidly, sorting through things faster than Reid can keep up with. He may be able to read 20,000 words per minute, but when it's on a screen and moving on its own and moving around... he'll stick to paper. "Allllright! I've found a few possibilities. I'll do some more digging, get in touch with some to see their availability..."

Reid touches her shoulder and turns her around. "Penelope, you don't have to-"

"Oh shush, I don't have to do anything is right. I _want_ to do this, Spencer," she smiles at him, her eyes sad. Spencer shakes his head softly, his shoulders folding into him as he lets himself relax. "Oh honey... you've been through enough alone. I know now, okay? And I'll be there to help you figure it out, and if that means doing _ex_ _tensive_ research on psychics to see which ones are fake, then that's what I'll do." He laughs, shaking his head again. His eyes water. "Oh, and I assume you'll want me to drive you to whatever psychic we find if it's in person?"

Reid can't help it and he collapses onto his knees, wiping his eyes and breathing heavily. "Oh, oh! Spencer, sweetie!" Penelope wraps her arms around him again.

"I didn't... I didn't think I could tell anyone," he whispers.

"You can tell me," Penelope says squeezing him. "You give me a call on _any_ case, or just any time you see something, and I will answer, and I will help cover for you."

"No, that... that's too much. You don't have to-"

Penelope gives him a light tap on the head. "Do _not_ make me repeat myself because I **know** you remember what I said already. I _want_ to do this. I want to be there for you, okay? You're not alone. I'm here now."

Reid hurries his face in her jacket, ignoring the feathers that tickle and itch him, just letting himself be held. "Thank you," he whispers.

It's a few days later when he stays later than usual to finish a file and the office has clear out, except of course for Hotch, when Penelope rushes up to his desk with a big smile on her face. She slaps a file on his desk. "Anna Welsh!" she proclaims. Reid examines the files, scanning through the testimonies and background history. "She is a psychic medium who lives in the area and became psychic after head trauma from a car accident put her in a coma. She mostly sees spirits and stuff, but of everyone, she seemed like the one who would be able to help. So, I got an appointment for Saturday morning!"

Spencer stares at her, his mouth open. "Garcia, this is..."

"Amazing, I know!" She laughs slightly. "I can drive you, and just wait, or I could come in. Whatever you want. It is **totally** up to you."

Spencer smiles at her. "I think I'd rather go in a lone, but you'd wait for me in the car, right?"

"What else would I do?" Penelope ruffles his hair. "I have this new knitting pattern I'm working on to make flowers for one of my outfits, and that gives me the time and lighting i need to work on it!"

Reid pushes her hand away, but keeps smiling. "So Saturday?" She nods, clasping her hands together and almost jumping in place. "I'll get coffee from that cafe you like. Pick me up there?"

"Oh, Spencer Reid, you spoil me!" Garcia says kissing his head and laughing. He swats at her again, but he laughs too. "See you Saturday!" she calls as she hurries out of the office to get home.

Hotch comes out of his office, scrutinizing Reid. "What's Saturday?" he asks.

"Garcia and I are gonna marathon Dr. Who," Reid says smiling.

Hotch nods and smiles. It's not a full smile, just a slight curve on one side. It's rare for Hotch to smile at all even. "I hope you two enjoy. It's been too long since any of us have had time to have fun."

Reid smiles again, his lips tight. "Really hope nothing comes up before then."

Hotch glances at his watch. "Well, it's only one more day of work till Saturday. But with our luck-"

"There's a good chance we'll have a case before then," Reid finishes. He sticks his hands in his pockets.

Hotch examines Reid again. "It's late Reid. You should head home."

Reid nods. "Yes sir. You should do the same soon."

When Hotch meets Reid's eyes, for a second, Reid sees himself, _literally_ , from Hotch's perspective. He feels himself speak out loud. "I'll be heading out soon."

The shift back is just as sudden, and he grabs the desk to steady himself. Hotch raises his eyebrow slightly, but Reid just grabs his bag and waves as he hurries out of his office.

If anything comes up before Saturday, Spencer will be _furious_.


	6. The Meeting

Through some miracle, Spencer finds himself waiting outside Penelope's favorite coffee shop on Saturday morning. He keeps tapping his foot, tapping on his coffee, his whole body fidgeting. He sips the coffee, and the taste of it calms him. Unlike the lavender coffee he got Penelope, his is just coffee. It's good coffee. Although lavender does have calming properties and might be helpful in a situation like this... he's not fond of the taste. It's more of a fragrance than a flavor. Coffee is good enough with just milk and sugar and sometimes, vanilla. There's no need to add lavender.

A small blue car pulls up, and Reid waves at Penelope before getting in the car and handing her her drink. "Oh, thank you my love!" she says taking it. Penelope sniffs it gratefully before taking a slow sip from the cup. She smiles and closes her eyes.

Reid shuts the door and buckles himself in. She keeps the coffee in one hand as she pulls out and starts to drive.

The inside of her car is just like her office. On her dashboard is a little fake tulip that wiggles as she drive. There are rainbow fuzzy dice hanging from her rearview mirror, and her steering wheel is covered in (fake) pink fur. Usually she has matching seat covers, but she must have taken them off to clean. They bother Spencer anyway. Too tickly and too itchy at the same time.

He fidgets with the seatbelt that's too close to his neck. "How far is Anna?" he asks. Reid takes another sip of coffee. Even though it's a stimulant, and theoretically should make him more anxious, the taste makes him calm down.

"About..." Garcia checks the directions displayed on her phone. Reid much prefers memorizing directions and maps. "Fifteen minutes!"

He hums in response. Reid drinks from his cup again. He should have gotten a second. This isn't nearly enough coffee.

"I have some music we can listen to," Penelope says smiling. She turns on her radio and some 80s music starts blasting. Reid reaches reflexively up, covering his ears as Garcia lowers the volume, repeating, "Oh sorry! Sorry! I didn't realize how loud it was!"

He lowers his hands and looks down at his coffee cup. Thankfully, it hadn't spilled when he dropped it in his lap. When he goes to drink more, he realizes its because the cup is already empty.

He should have gotten a second cup.

The music plays softly in the background. It's not his favorite, but he'll listen to it with Penelope when she drives. She always gets him to sing along. It's not as fun to listen to alone.

Today's not really a singing day though, even though Garcia is humming to herself as she drives. She looks almost as nervous as Reid feels. He's not sure why.

"When we get there, do you want me to go in and wait with you?" she asks making a turn that is slightly too fast for Spencer's comfort.

He grips his armrest tightly. "I think I'd rather go in alone. Have time to clear my head." Garcia nods, and they sit silently for a bit, until she starts humming softly to herself.

A few minutes later, Garcia pulls into a lot. It's a plain white building with a blue door, just one story. There's no signs, just an address. It almost looks like a home. "She most likely doesn't want walk ins," Spencer says without thinking. Penelope snorts. "You'll be right out here?"

She smiles at him and rubs him arm. "I'll be right here."

He nods before getting out of the car. Spencer readjusts his bag before opening the door. The's the soft chime of bells as he closes it behind him. Inside a small room with light blue walls and a gray carpet. There's a few plush chairs to sit on, all white. There's two brown doors in the room plus pictures on the walls of sunsets and flowers. He almost wonders if he's actually broken into someone's house when a short woman with dark brown hair opens one of the doors. "Spencer Reid?" she says. Her voice is chipper and friendly. He grips the strap of his bag tightly and nods. "Come in!"

He stands up slowly and walks into the room. It's smaller than the first, and instead of the bright light of the waiting room, it has a warm, gentler light. There's two leather chairs facing each other, both with a small table next to it. There's also a desk covered in books and papers and a little lamp that is providing the light. It's meant to make him feel safe.

She sits in one chair and gestures for him to take the other. He sits down on the edge of the seat, still gripping his bag tightly. "I talked to your friend Penelope on the phone," she says picking up a mug from the small table next to her. She holds it between both hands. He wishes he still had some coffee. "She mostly asked questions, but I was able to figure out that you were someone who needed advisement more than a reading." Reid nods. He tries to relax, but he's pulled his shoulders in and hunched forward. He taps against his leg. "She told me you were in an accident?"

Reid nods, then shakes his head. "Sort of?" he says, his voice cracking. He clears his throat.. "I, um, I was kidnapped on the job and drugged and beaten... and I guess I died for a bit."

Anna nods and crosses her legs. "And then you came back. Just like I did. But you don't realize fully what's happened at first." Spencer nods, sitting up slightly. "Something similar happened to me, as I'm sure Penelope already told you. And just like you, I found someone who could help me figure out what was happening and explain it to me. I'm assuming that's what you want?"

Reid pauses before nodding. "Is it the same for you?"

"Well, it's never exactly the same for anyone," Anna says. "My mentor was born a medium and was always sensitive to spirits, especially spirits that had unfinished business. According to him, I have my abilities because I died and came back."

"Because you chose to come back?" Reid asks.

Anna shrugs. "That's what my mentor thinks. I don't know. I don't remember anything from when I was in my coma or from when I flatlined. Do you?"

Spencer nods. "I remember seeing this light, and there were these figures around me... and I think they were saying something, but I don't know what." He stares at her, as if she'll be able to tell him.

"That's weird," she says instead. "And a little cliche." He chuckles. "It's interesting you remember. Not everyone does, and not everyone has the same experience. Some people experience total darkness or visions of the afterlife or future. Now, your friend didn't disclose with me what ability you have. As I've already said, I'm a medium. I'm sensitive to spiritual energy, and I can see and interact with some spirits. I can only tell what's happened, I'm not a psychic in any sense. Is that similar to you?" She cocks her head, watching him.

Reid freezes again, drawing into himself. "No. I, um, I don't think I'm a medium. Or a psychic. It's more like... I can see things through other people's eyes?"

"So almost more like astral projection?" Anna asks. She takes a sip from her mug, her eyes fixated on Reid.

Astral projection is something he would have written off as being fantasy. He never considered it being real, and he never considered having it as an ability. Reid takes a deep, shaky breath. "I... I guess? I'm not sure though. I don't think they know I'm there."

"And what happens to you- your body I should say-, when this happens?"

Reid looks away. "I, uh, I'm not sure. Nothing, I guess?"

"Are you able to interact with the environment around you and respond to others?" Anna asks.

"I don't know."

"And do you know what the person is thinking?"

"No."

Anna hums softly and places her mug down. She leans forward, just a bit. "Do you know how to do it on command?" Reid shakes his head. "If it's alright, I'd like to try. Your friend, Penelope, she's waiting in the car right?"

Reid nods and adds, "Knitting. She said she wanted to work on some flowers."

"Alright. First of all, relax," Anna says. Her smile is soft. "You're too tense, which I'm assuming is because you're stressed. Stress and anxiety can sometimes block psychic abilities." Reid forces himself to sit back in the chair and release his bag. She nods at him. "How has it happened in the past?"

"It happens when someone's in danger or stressed, usually in relation to a case. I'll see a photo or something connected or be thinking of the case and then..." Anna nods. "But it's also happened once with a friend, just for a second."

"And was he stressed?"

Reid nods. "He's usually stressed."

Anna lets out a light laugh. "And Penelope? Does she give off strong emotions usually?"

"She's one of the happiest people I work with," Reid says. He grins slightly. "She likes to fill everything with color."

"And how would you imagine she feels right now?"

"Given the situation, she's most likely nervous," Reid says.

"Close your eyes." Spencer takes a second before doing so. "Focus on the thought of Penelope. What she's like. Every person has a spiritual energy. Focus on what hers feels like to you."

Penelope's warm and bright. She's crazy smart and a huge nerd, but she's also super crafty. But he can't figure out what her energy feels like. What he's thinking of feels more like her personality than "spiritual energy".

"Reach out and try to find her, keeping her energy in mind."

Reid imagines Penelope in the car, humming along to 80s music as she knits, cursing every so often when she messes up. He knows where she is and what she's doing... but it's not the same. He opens his eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know how. It always happens on accident. I don't _feel_ people's energy. I know their personalities and mannerisms," Reid says. "What happened to me... it was an accident. It's all just an accident."

Anna frowns for the first time, her face showing sadness, not disappointment. "Spencer... your abilities are different from any psychic or medium I've met or heard of. Especially with being able to overpower people you don't-"

"I don't overpower people," Spencer says. He sits up, gripping his strap in his hands. "I just see through their eyes. I can't control what they do, I can't tell what they're thinking, and I can't control when it happens." He stands up and pulls a check from his bag, holding it out to her. "Thank you for your time."

She stands slowly and takes the check. "It's something you'll learn to control. You won't figure it out in one session. When I first starting sensing and seeing spirits, it was so overwhelming to me. In some places, the spiritual energy was so strong, I became physically ill. I can't turn on and off my ability to sense spirits- it's something I've had to adapt to. I started meditating, focusing on my energy, letting the other energy wash over me. The more familiar you are with yourself, the easier it is to be familiar with others."

Spencer watches her and nods slowly. "Thank you. I think... I think that helps."

Anna smiles again. "Based on my understanding, you're able to enter people's consciousness. Whether that means your soul fully leaves your body or just extends... I'm not sure. It's not something I've heard of before." Reid's face pales. She already told him that, but having a condition that's new, that he can't be taught about... "Feel free to reach out anytime. I hope some of this was able to help you."

"Yes, thank you," Reid says. He waves and exits before she can ask or say anything else. She was sweet, but she didn't have the answers he wanted. Spencer loves answers and explanations. He loves being able to figure things out or at least explore theories. There were only two theories she presented, technically three if he counts astral projection which may or may not be different from his spirit leaving his body.

It's too confusing and fantastical. He opens the door and relaxes into the car seat, glad for whatever reason there's no seat covers.

Penelope looks up from her kitting and asks, "How'd it go?"

Reid groans softly in response.

"That bad?"

"She wasn't able to offer an explanation except for that I might be astral projecting or stretching my soul? I'm not really sure," Reid says closing his eyes. The light is too bright out here compared to Anna's office. "She's never heard of any psychic or medium like me."

Garcia squeezes his shoulder. "You always were special Spencer Reid." Her voice is light, teasing.

"And for once," he says sighing, "there's something I can't figure out."


	7. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some gore

Reid's grateful that he has the rest of the day off to think. Garcia drops him off, and he's glad she doesn't ask if he wants to do something. He needs time to process the session he had.

He had hoped it would answer his questions. Some of it was helpful. Meditation seems like it would help in general with his anxiety. He often fidgets, and sitting still is hard, but he figures he can make adaptations for himself. Spencer takes a pen from his desk and taps it on his leg. He breathes deeply and slowly, keeping his eyes focused on the pen.

His mind always wanders, and with everything that's happened... he can't keep it quiet. He recites the dictionary from memory, focusing on each word as he thinks it, not letting any thoughts enter his mind. Halfway through the As, his mind feels quieter. Not as frantic. Still moving fast, but not too fast that he can't keep up with his thoughts.

He'll make a habit of meditating, focusing on himself. Even if it doesn't help with his "abilities", at least it helps steady his mind. That's enough for now.

Reid contemplates using his computer to research astral projection and spirits, but he figures if there was reliable information, Anna could have provided it. Based on what Garcia found on her, she has a lot of connections with other psychics.

But none like him.

He'll figure it out for himself than. Even if he doesn't stand why, he'll figure out how. On the next case. It's happened most on cases. There's a high probability of him having another vision on whatever case is next.

That will be his plan for now. As long as he has a plan, he can deal with the uncertainty. Reid will figure it out. He always does.

It's a few days later when JJ calls them into the meeting room and pulls up images of several bodies mangled beyond recognition. "In the last month, four bodies have been discovered in Baltimore, Maryland. Each body has been mutilated with an ax according to coroner reports. In the past week, two of the bodies were found."

"An escalation," Rossi says.

JJ nods. "Which is why we've been called in. None have yet to be identified and are most likely high risk victims, either people who were homeless or who worked on the streets."

"There's no respect for the bodies," Prentiss says flinching at the images. "A lot of anger." Derek nods in agreement.

"Anger directed at victims who are high risk. Maybe he seems them as being below him?" Rossi says.

"Or he comes from a similar background and holds disdain for them because of that," Hotch suggests.

"An ax is an unusual choice of weapon," Reid says. "There have been some serial killers who have chosen an axe, such as the Axeman of New Orleans who is believed to have been racially motivated."

"Which is just a polite way of saying he was a hateful racist," Prentiss says with a deep breath. "But these victims all appear to have different skin colors. I think. It's hard to tell." She squints at the images on her device.

"Either way, he's physically fit, angry, and escalating," Hotch says. "We'll depart in thirty minutes, split into two cars. We'll discuss more on the ride over."

Thirty minutes later, Reid is sitting in the back of a van with Rossi driving and Emily in the passenger seat. They have the other car and Garcia on speaker.

Hotch's voice is slightly distorted as he says, "Rossi, I want you to drop off Reid and Prentiss at the morgue to examine the bodies and talk to the coroner. Morgan and I will examine the most recent crime scene, and you and JJ will start assembling the files at the station. Garcia?"

"Yes sir?"

"See if you can find any missing persons reports for high risk people in Baltimore during the last month. If we can narrow down a list of names, we might be able to identify the victims. There's a chance there may be no dental records for identification, and victimology will be vital to understand his motives."

"On it sir!" Garcia exits the call, and Hotch follows suit.

Rossi snorts. "Glad I never get morgue duty."

"I always seem to be stuck with it," Reid says. "I've gotten used to it, but..." _Now I have psychic abilities and that makes it a bit scarier._ "This case is pretty gruesome."

"I don't think I'll ever 'get used to it'," Prentiss says snorting. "How much do you think we'll even be able to get from the coroner's report?"

Rossi sighs, "Hopefully enough." He pulls in front of brick building. "Alright, call me when you're done. Unless you'd rather walk to the station."

"Ah, I actually thought it'd be nice to take an Uber," Emily teases opening her door and hopping out. Reid follows her into the building where someone greets them and leads them to the morgue.

"Hi, Agent Prentiss and Dr. Reid," Emily says to the doctor standing over the bodies with a clipboard.

He starts, then walks over, shaking her hand. The doctor holds out his hand to Reid, but Reid waves instead. "Dr. Morgan."

Dr. Morgan leads them to the tables where the four bodies are laid out, two with sheets covering them. "So, the first victim has the least damage. Death by trauma to the head, most likely from a dull axe. Rest of the injuries were post mortem."

"Overkill. He couldn't control his anger, even after she died," Pretniss says.

Dr. Morgan nods and continues. "Most everything is intact, despite the heavy damage. Second victim, more damage than the first, sharper axe used, died by trauma to the head, but unlike the first victim, the rest of the injuries were done when he was alive. There was one appendage chopped off completely." The doctor nods to the lower half of the body.

"There's a chance he's infertile than," Reid says.

Emily nods. "Or a sexual sadist."

"As for the next to victims... I would prepare yourself." The doctor removes the sheet, revealing a body without arms or legs and with the chest and stomach ripped open. The head is barely attached and has been mutilated so much Reid can barely tell it's a head. "Everything was found with the body, both arms, both legs, all the organs. Same as the last victim-"

"Penis was cut off," Emily says bluntly.

Dr. Morgan nods. "With this victim, it's harder to tell cause of death. Although there was severe trauma to the head, it seems more likely blood loss was the cause of death. The next victim is similar, but with more dismemberment."

He covers the body before uncovering the next one. Emily gasps and turns away for a second, gagging. Reid swallows, his stomach turning. Instead of a body, it's two containers, one with limbs and the other with organs. "As you can imagine, I wasn't able to tell much. This victim was a woman. Most of the organs and skin was able to be gathered but it's heavily contaminated by the environment, and as it is... there's not much to examine. Again trauma to the head, more damage to the rest of the body."

"Serious overkill," Prentiss says. Dr. Morgan covers the containers again and Reid relaxes slightly.

"Any match to dental records yet?" he asks.

The doctor shakes his head. "Not yet. It might take some time to find matches, especially for the later victims."

"Thank you for your time," Prentiss says. She shakes her hand and Reid waves goodbye. When they get outside, she takes a deep breath, leaning on her knees. "God, that was..."

"Disturbing," Reid says quietly. "Definitely a man with a lot of aggression."

"And physical strength. You'd think he'd get tired at a certain point." Emily stands up and shudders.

Reid nods. "He might have a job that requires continuous physical labor. Or it might be due to his aggression that he's able to... do so much damage."

Prentiss shakes her head, shuddering again. "Let's start walking. I need some air. Rossi can pick us up on our way." Reid nods, humming softly in agreement.

It's a warm day considering it's fall. There's trees along the road that have some red and orange leaves still hanging on. They walk next to each other in silence until Rossi picks them up. When they get in the car, all he says is, "That bad, huh?"

"The pictures don't fully capture what it's like to look at a dismembered body," Prentiss says. Her face is pale. Rossi hands her a coffee and passes one back to Reid. He drinks it, relishing the taste. "Although, aside from the obvious escalation and overkill, we did find out he cut off both male victims penises."

"That's interesting," Rossi says. "Sadism or infertility?"

"Fifty fifty chance for either," Reid says. "He kept the last three victims alive while he axed them, ending it with a blow to the head for at least two of them."

Rossi snorts. "Violent guy."

"That's an understatement," Prentiss says. She looks at her coffee and hands it back to Reid. "Here, I don't think I can stomach anything right now." He takes it without complaint.

Back at the station, he starts to set up a geographical profile using the map provided while Prentiss tells the rest of the team about what they learned. The bodies were left where the murders occurred. The first in an alley behind a bar, the second behind a convenience store, the third in a shopping center parking lot, and the last in a park. "The geographical profile isn't only showing his areas of comfort," Reid says turning to everyone else. "I think for the first victim, it was a spur of the moment decision. He was most likely at the bar that night. Do we know the time and date?"

JJ nods. "I can go and see if any of the bartenders know anything."

"I'll come with," Derek says. He pulls out his phone. "Hey baby girl? Can you see if there's any security cameras at any of the crime scenes? See if there's footage of our unsub or anyone who sticks out? Thanks baby girl." He hangs up. "Alright, let's go. We'll check out the convenience store to see if he went there as well. Hopefully someone remembers something cause we ain't gonna get much from victimology." Derek and JJ leave the station.

Prentiss walks up next to Reid. "So if it was a spur of the moment decision, where did he get the axe?"

Reid pauses, considering this. "I'm not sure. For the other murders, he most likely had the axe on his person, either because he was looking for a victim or because he formed a habit of carrying it."

"That makes sense," Emily agrees. "But finding an axe or having an axe at a bar is highly unlikely."

Hotch walks over and says, "That may not be the case. Garcia just sent me some information on the bar itself. She's still looking into security footage." Hotch shows them a photo of a wall covered in antiques like an old bike, old baseball cards, a fire poker, a set of sabers. "There's a chance that this bar had an antique axe on display at some point and it was removed, either by the staff or by our unsub. I'll tell JJ to ask about it."

Reid smiles at Prentiss slightly, but she rolls her eyes. "I cannot imagine owning a bar with weapons on display."

"That's because you're smart enough to know it's a bad idea," he says. He examines the map, and after a playful punch on the arm, Prentiss walks away.

"An axe was stolen from the storage room," JJ announces when her and Derek return to the station. "The owner put it in there after a few people accidentally cut themselves on it despite the 'Do Not Touch' sign." Rossi snorts. "He said he bought it from an estate sale a few years ago, and it was most likely used to chop firewood. So no notable history."

"And there's no cameras in the bar, but none of the employees remember anyone going into the staff areas, but apparently that night they were low on staff and very busy, so there's a chance the unsub was able to slip in and steal it."

Hotch narrows his eyes slightly. "He'd have to know it was there. We should look into past employees of the bar, especially any bouncers who now work in very physically demanding jobs."

Derek nods and says, "I'll call Garcia."

JJ continues. "None of the employees at the bar remember anyone who stuck out as aggressive or violent, and the people on staff at the convenience store weren't the same people working the night of the murder. I got contact information, so I'll work on seeing if they have any information on an aggressive man who shopped there."

Hotch nods and tells the team, "We'll work for a few more hours, and then head to the hotel if no new information is presented." He goes back to reading over the files.

Spencer stares at the map, examining the areas the unsub has committed the murders. All busy places, except the park. Most likely he was looking for a victim that night. Most likely it was someone who was homeless. There isn't much to go off, so he starts going through the files about the crime scenes with Hotch.

Reid's exhausted by the time Hotch has them call it a night. JJ wasn't able to get anything from the employees, and Reid's not sure if the man was running errands or searching for victims anymore. Or why he took the axe.

Him and Morgan are sharing a room, but thankfully, they have their own beds. He forces himself to change his clothes and brush his teeth before throwing the covers onto a chair and crawling under the sheets. Morgan doesn't try to talk to him, which he appreciates. It only takes a few minutes before he falls asleep.

_He taps on something wooden, sitting on the bench at a bus station on an empty street. Across from him is an alleyway. A man exits the alleyway, stumbling around with a paper bag in his hand. The man drops it and loudly curses, "Shit!"_

_He stands, walking towards the man, his hand closing around the wooden pole as he walks towards the man. His heart stops, realizing what he's holding._ No, no no. _The man doesn't notice until he's on top of him, bring the axe down into his heart._

STOP. STOP.

 _He continues, bringing the axe down and chopping off the man's hand. He's crying, snot dripping from his nose gulping from air._ STOP! I'm sorry! _His hands reach down, ripping off the man's clothes. His stomach turns as he grabs the man's... he chops it off. He chops it off and then continues bringing the axe down into his body, chopping off his feet and hands and splitting the bone in the arms and legs. He brings it down into the chest and stomach and finally into the head four times. His muscles are aching. His body feels numb. He wants to throw up._

"Reid! Reid! You're okay! You're okay!" Spencer gasps for air, reaching into the darkness, his hands closing onto someone. "It's Derek! You're okay!" Spencer grabs Derek and collapses into him, sobbing. "Reid, what's wrong?"

"Nightmare," Reid whispers shuddering. "Really bad..." It replays in his head. The axe breaking through the chest, the crunch it made... He gags, covering his mouth.

Derek pulls back and comes back holding the trash can. Reid grabs it and vomits into it, trying to catch his breath, focus on the taste of acid. He keeps throwing up until he's dry heaving. "Do you want to talk about it kid?" Derek asks rubbing Reid's back. He shakes his head furiously. There's no way to explain to Derek. That he just saw a murder... that the murderer was in so much distress that Reid could see through his eyes... that he saw himself chopping a man to bits.

Reid heaves again, his whole body shaking. He shivers. Derek wraps the sheets around Reid's shoulders. Spencer tries to focus on his breathing. He recites the dictionary starting from the leave B, focusing on each word.

"If you need a day off tomorrow..." Derek's voice is soft. Reid wants to argue, say he'll feel better in the morning, that he needs to help with the case, but he nods instead. Tomorrow, his team will discover there's another dead body. Garcia will find something on a past employee at the bar or one of the staff members will realize they did see something.

Reid just doesn't think he can profile a new victim when he saw exactly how he was murdered. When he feels like the one who murdered him.


	8. Coping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for excessive drinking

Derek is snoring peacefully in the other bed. Reid is still wrapped in a blanket cocoon with the trash can next to his bed just in case. Shivers rack his body, but the room feels too hot at the same time. Too stiff, not enough air.

He's seen death, just not like this. Never this violent. In the field, when someone dies, its a gunshot. Quick and over. Hacking someone to death? Seeing that as it happens and not being able to do anything? Almost feeling like _he_ did it?

Spencer takes a deep breath, his chest shaking. When he closes his eyes, he sees the machete in his hand again and gasps, sitting up and ripping the sheets off him. He grabs his phone, gun, and badge and leaves the room, still in his pajamas.

It takes a second for his hand to stop shaking enough for him to start a call to Garcia. It rings a few times. She won't answer. It's the middle of the night, and they're working a case. There's no way she'll answer.

Reid sighs, about to hang up, when a tired voice says, "Spencer?" Garcia yawns and Spencer smiles slightly before he realizes he woke her up. "Honey, is everything alright?"

"I... I had a nightmare," he whispers. "A real one."

Penelope's quiet for a second. Reid keeps walking down the hall. He'll go outside for a bit. It should be cooler out there. He'll clear his head and go back up. "What happened?"

"It... it was from the unsub's viewpoint." Reid's voice cracks. He steadies his hand, tries to breathe evenly, but his chest hurts and everything feels like it's moving too fast around him. "I saw him kill someone."

"Oh, sweetie." Her voice is soft, gentle. He opens the door and steps outside. It's colder than he realized, but everything slows down when he steps outside. "And it was real?"

He nods and swallows. "Yea..."

"I wish I was there and I could bundle you up in a big hug," Penelope says. Her voice is missing its usual enthusiasm. It's probably just cause she's tired.

Reid takes a few deep breaths. "You know I don't usually like hugs," he says. Garcia snorts. Spencer smiles slightly. "You can hug me when I get back. I think I'm just going to head home tomorrow, get a ride. It's not far. I won't be able to focus on the case or be impartial. I'll just take the rest of the case off. Hotch will understand. I got... I got pretty sick."

Penelope takes a quick breath in and asks, "Sick? You mean a panic attack?"

A panic attack. "Yea, I guess," Reid says. He swallows again. "I'm feeling okay now. I'll try to get some sleep."

"I'll be here if you need me. And you know Sir Hotness is in the bed next to yours! Can't even imagine what you two could get up to alone." Her voice is teasing, and it makes Spencer laugh.

"I'll talk to you later Penelope. Thanks for... thanks for talking to me. It helped."

"Always!" Penelope pauses before quickly saying, "Love you sweetie!" And hanging up, so he doesn't have to say it back or ignore it. The team knows he's not great with affection, even just a simple "love you" is hard. He hopes they know it anyway, hopes one day he can say it to them casually. They're the first group of people Spencer's truly felt like he belonged.

He knows they care about him, and they're going to realize soon he's not okay.

Spencer has to make sure he's okay before they start to catch on.

After a few hours of not being able to sleep, he leaves to go back to his apartment, leaving a note for Morgan saying he felt sick and just wanted to be in his own home. Morgan knows how much Spencer hates staying in hotels. It won't seem too out of character.

The ride home, Spencer keeps going through words in the dictionary, mentally reciting them, using them to push away the memories threatening to come back. The sun still hasn't risen by the time he gets home, unpacks, and showers. He figures he might as well read a book or do a puzzle, so he sits down on the couch with a book of crossword puzzles. He barely has time to look at it before he falls asleep.

_"Confess your sins."_

_Reid stares at the man before him, but he's blurry, like there's a light coming from behind him that's too bright. "I haven't sinned."_

_"Lies. Look what you've done."_ _The man steps aside, gesturing down to a pile of limbs. On top is the head of the old man. His eyes are missing, his mouth open but without teeth._

_Reid's voice cracks. "No, I-I didn't do that."_

_"You were there. You could have stopped it." His head is shoved forward into a bucket of cold water. He gasps for air, reaching out to grab the arms of whoever's restraining him. "You must be cleansed of your sins."_

_Reid is released, and he sits up, coughing and breathing deeply. Water drips from his nose into his mouth. "I didn't do anything."_

_The old man's mouth moves slowly. "You let me die." Reid stares at it, his heart pounding, his body stiff. "You were there... and you couldn't save me."_

_Someone takes Reid's arm, holding it tightly. He looks into his own eyes. "Trust me, it helps," he sees himself say as a syringe enters his arm._

Spencer wakes screaming, flailing his arms about, sweat dripping down his body. He shivers and takes a deep breath. There's an itch in his body. Something he hasn't felt for a while.

He grabs his bag and hurries out the door, almost running out of the building.

There was nothing Spencer could have done to prevent the murder. Seeing it play out did not change his impact on the situation. He was asleep, he didn't know what was happening or where it was happening.

It's not his fault.

He rubs his arms and looks up at the sky. It must be about five o'clock. Reid must have slept for most of the day. He should eat, but he doesn't feel hungry. Instead he keeps walking.

 _The man's eyes stare at him_ as- Reid shakes his head, shoving the memory away. He walks faster, further.

After a while, it starts to get colder. There's a bar further down the street. It shouldn't be too crowded at this time. He can get a coffee and maybe something small to eat. Then he'll head home.

Reid picks up the pace, rubbing his arms as he walks the rest of the way to the bar. He opens the door and sighs at the warm air. It makes more sense to sit at the bar if he wants to be served faster, and it'll be easier for the servers.

There's a woman wiping down the bar, and she smiles at him as he sits down. "What can I get for you?"

"Just a coffee for now," Reid says.

She leans forward, raising an eyebrow. "Kid, I think you need something stronger than a coffee." She reaches below the counter and pours him a drink, most likely whiskey, before placing it in front of him. "This one's on the house. And if you still want a coffee after that, that can be on you."

He smiles weakly at her. "Thank you." He hates whiskey. Hotch and Rossi have offered it to him a few times, and it always burns.

Based on the glass, it's most likely a sipping whiskey, but Reid wants to get it over with as fast as possible. He downs it, coughing as it goes down. The server laughs lightly and places a water in front of him. "If you had wanted a shot, I would've given you something smoother." Reid takes the water and downs it. His throat still burns, but he feels warmer. "Coffee?"

 _There's blood everywhere, on him._ Reid pauses for a second. "What would you recommend, to warm up?"

She laughs again, leaning against the counter. "Hot toddy?" she offers.

Reid nods and hands her his card. "Keep an open tab for now." It's not often he drinks, and it's less often he does a shot. His face feels warm and fuzzy. He'll just have one more drink to warm up, get some food, and head home.

He sips on the water until the drink is placed in front of him. Steam drifts up, and he cradles the mug between his hands. It almost smells like tea. He takes a sip, and it goes down easier, leaving the taste of honey on his tongue. He smiles and hums slightly as he takes another few sips.

For a bit, it's just the warm mug and the taste of honey and lemon. He closes his eyes, relaxing into the smell of the steam as he holds the cup beneath his nose. He inhales deeply and smiles again. It feels like the drink is gone too fast.

Reid keeps smiling as the waitress comes back. "Anything else?"

He thinks for a second, sorting through their menu in his head. "Just some hot pretzels," he says. He hasn't had soft pretzels in a while. They'll be so warm and soft.

She smiles at him and writes down his order before going to the back.

If he owned a restaurant, he would never have to write anything down. He would be the best server.

A man with dark hair sits a few seats away and nods at Spencer. Spencer waves back. "Here for dinner?" Reid asks smiling.

The man examines Reid and laughs lightly. "Nah, just for a drink after work."

"What drink?" Reid asks. The server places a basket of soft pretzels in front of Reid and he thanks her as he picks one up. It's just as warm as he hoped.

"Usually beer, but if you had something else in mind..." The man's voice trails off. He smirks at Reid. He has a pretty smile. Reid pauses with the pretzel still in his hand before taking a bite. And it's sooo fluffy! Like a cloud!

"I liked the hot toddy," Reid says before taking another bite of the pretzel. How can something be so soft and so crispy?

The man moves over, leaving just a seat between them. "What about whiskey?"

"It's nice and warm, but it burns my throat," Reid says scrunching up his nose.

The man laughs and holds out his hand. "Dan," he says.

Reid reaches out and shakes his hand. Something about this feels different than what he'd usually do. He can't remember why. "Spencer."

"Well, what do you say to rum? Burns less, but its still warm. On me." Dan smiles. He has really bright green eyes. Reid nods as he starts to eat another pretzel. "Two shots of spiced rum please."

The woman behind the bar grabs two shot glasses and pours rum into them with such ease and skill Reid can't tear his eyes away until the shot's pushed in front of him. He picks it up, examines the darker color. It smells spicy.

Dan holds up his shot glass, and Reid does the same. They clink them together. and Dan throws back the shot so quickly Reid thinks he missed it. Spencer takes another sniff before tilting his head back and pouring it down his throat. It doesn't taste great, but it burns less. He smiles at Dan, his mouth feeling weird. His mind feels nice and warm, and his body is tingling a bit. "That was good," Reid says, and he giggles.

"Want to try something else?" Dan asks. He shifts over another seat, sitting next to Reid. "I'll pay again if you share the pretzels."

Reid pushes the basket closer to Dan and nods, smiling. Everything feels quiet and fluid, like water. Like he's floating. He focuses on how the pretzels are still soft and warm while Dan orders another round of shots. He puts one in front of Reid as he tells Spencer, "This one is definitely gonna be gross, but trust me. It's worth it."

Spencer wonders what that means. How will it be worth it if it's gross? Will it keep him feeling warm? He cheers with Dan and downs the shot, coughing as it goes down. It tastes like rubbing alcohol and spice and maybe something else? "What-" Spencer coughs again and drinks some water. He clears his throat. "What was that?"

"Basically every liquor," Dan says laughing. "Doesn't taste very good, but it gets you there."

Spencer cocks his head. "Gets you where?"

Dan laughs and claps his hand on Spencer's shoulder. Spencer smiles. "You're a funny one. One more, and then let's get something else to eat? I'll make sure this one tastes good." Reid nods, but he's too focused on Dan's eyes, on his hands. They feel too big, too close. He picks up the last pretzel and eats it instead of thinking. Another shot is placed in front of him. "Fireball and absinthe, with a bit of sprite," Dan says.

Reid smells it. "Smells like licorice." He throws back the shot before he remembers he's supposed to cheer. Instead of being upset, Dan cheers and downs his own shot. It leaves a pleasant taste in his mouth. Spencer smiles and leans back in the chair, closing his eyes as he focuses on the taste.

Someone's hand is on his shoulder again. Spencer opens his eyes, grinning at Dan and his pretty smile and bright green eyes. He seems a little out of focus, but Spencer feels too warm to care. He leans his head against Dan's hand, closing his eyes again. It's quiet and warm and peaceful. Everything feels fuzzy and soft.

Like the inside of a pretzel.

Reid sits up quickly, grabbing his trash can just before he vomits, the acid burning his throat. "It's okay, just breathe Reid." His eyes snap open, staring. It's not his room. It's not his room.

Someone touches his arm gently and he looks over. JJ is sitting next to him. "JJ?" he croaks out.

"Will found you wandering around," she says softly. "You were pretty drunk, so he called me and asked me to come home."

Reid grounds, leaning into his hands. "You should be on the case," he says softly. He ruined it. He ruined the case already. He let the man die, and now he's taken JJ from it.

"We were heading back to the hotel for the night anyway. I'll just wake up early and drive down tomorrow," JJ says. She hands him a bottle of water. He holds it between his hands. It feels so cold.

"What time is it?" he asks. His voice is hoarse.

"It's just a bit after ten," she says. JJ takes her hand from his arm. "Spence... is everything okay?"

Spencer's body tenses. Images flash through his head. _Bruises. Drowning. A gun. A needle. An axe. Scattered, bloodied limbs._ He throws the water bottle to the ground and jumps up, demanding, "Everything's fine!" He stumbles and grabs his head. "Everything's perfect JJ. Now, just take me home, and you can go to bed and get up to go back to the case before I fuck it up any further."

She sounds confused when she asks, "How did you fuck it up?" Instead of answering, Reid drops to his knees and grabs his knees as he throws up again. JJ sits on the bed behind him, rubbing his back gently.

Spencer rests his head on the floor. It's cold and hard, not soft and fluffy. His voice is muffled when he finally speaks. "I saw it happen. I saw it happen and I couldn't stop it."


	9. Hangover

When Reid wakes up again, his face is pressed against the floor and his mouth feels disgusting. His head is pounding and he can't remember where he is. It's still dark outside. He sits up, rubbing his head. All he wants to do is take a shower and brush his teeth. The amount of bacteria and fungus on the average floor, especially with carpets which aren't mopped and are only vacuumed...

In the bed above him is JJ, curled into herself. Her face is soft, her breaths even. She shouldn't be here though. She should be with the others working the case.

Last night, he almost told her. Told her about what he sees. But even drunk out of his mind, he couldn't bring himself to tell her. He doesn't think she'd believe him even if he did. He was... very drunk last night. He doesn't remember anything that happened after the last shot.

 _Shit!_ Did he even close his tab? Reid spots his bag against the wall and grabs it, pulling out his wallet. Everything's there. But not knowing what happened... what he did, where he was...

He shivers. He stomach turns again, and he grabs the trash can, spitting into it. JJ stirs but doesn't wake. Reid should just leave anyway. Get to his own apartment where he can shower and change.

Spencer tries to stand, but his legs wobble and his head spins. He flops onto the floor, covering his mouth as he gags. Before he throws up, he's able to crawl to the trashcan.

It burns his throat as it comes up, due to the high acidity of the stomach. He spits again, slumping back onto the floor. Even though the room is dark, it feels too bright. His head feels light, and Spencer worries that if he moves, he'll suddenly be somewhere else. _In_ someone else. He shivers.

"Spence?"

What's to stop that from happening anyway? He can't stop it. He can't stop anything. He can't do anything useful.

"Spence." JJ's voice is firmer this time. She sits in front of him and hands him a bottle of water. "Drink some water. You've lost a lot of fluids. And if your stomach is up to it, I have some pain killers because I can only _imagine_ the headache you have." JJ smiles slightly as he takes the water and sips it. "How are you feeling?"

Reid frowns, staring down at his hands, waiting for them to become someone else's. "I feel like I'm going to disappear if I blink," Spencer whispers. "I think I'm dissociating."

"Alright," JJ says. She takes his hands- _he's covered in blood_. "Breathe with me. Focus on your breathing." Spencer stares at her, watching her breathe, copying her breaths, breathing deeply. He feels strangely detached from it all. He closes his eyes, relaxing into himself.

_He stares across a table Rossi. "Hotch, we have to talk about the kid," Rossi says._

_He -Hotch- sighs rubbing his head. "I know. He had been doing better, stopped showing signs of withdrawal. Do you think he's relapsed again?"_

_If he were to try to say something, would they hear him? Would JJ hear him?_

_"It's hard to say. Morgan said he got sick on the last case after they were in the morgue, which is unusual."_

_"That is unusual," he says. "Reid's seen many victims and never had a visual reaction."_

_He's never seen what they've been through before._

_"The Hankel case changed him," Rossi says. "It's not surprising. It's the first time he's been a victim himself. It changes how you see things." He died. That changed how he saw things._

_He sighs and leans his arm on the table, letting his head rest in his palm. "That should never have happened."  
_

_"It did Hotch."_

"Spencer."

_It's JJ's voice. Calling him back. Would she hear him, if he tried to respond?_

_His voice is softer when he says, "I know." He clears his throat. "Regardless, this behavior is unusual for him. Especially the drinking."_

_"It's a different way of coping." Rossi shrugs. "This is a tough case we're working on."_

_He rubs his head again. "It's just the sudden shifts in behavior that unnerve me," he says._

"Breathe with me Spence."

_"You know the kid. He's good at hiding stuff until it's too much."_

_"I'm just worried about him," he says. His chest feels heavy. "If his behavior keeps escalating like this..."_

_"I know Hotch."_

_Spencer's heart is pounding in his chest. His own chest. They don't know he's here. JJ doesn't know he's here. He screams out, his voice raspy, "I CAN HEAR YOU."_

He opens his eyes, staring at JJ as she flinches back from him, her eyes wide. "JJ," he says softer. "I..."

She shakes her head and forces a smile. "It's alright Spence. What happened?"

His mouth is dry and tastes like bile. Because there is bile in his mouth. He's hungover and his body doesn't feel like his own. How can he explain this to JJ without sounding crazy when he feels crazy himself? She would understand, if he could just explain. "I'll be okay," he says smiling back. "It's just a hangover."

Spencer decides talking to Anna is useless. When she met with him, she knew nothing about what was happening to him. She won't be able to help him understand anything more now. He sits on his couch, still tasting bile despite having brushed his teeth and rinsed several times. JJ drove him home before she left to go back to the case.

He doesn't want to think about it. He can't think about it. So he reads instead. The team will be fine without him. They don't need him to help. He's useless right now anyway.

His body itches, inside. The same itch he had last night. He still feels sick and the thought of drinking more makes his stomach churn. The though of... something else... it means his mouth dry, his heart stop. It scares him, but he wants to give in. Take it again. To have the quiet.

He doesn't think he'll ever feel quiet again. Not with his own thoughts, not with the memories only others should have, with his team talking about him, worrying about him.

He's fine. Really, he is.

They don't need to worry. He can take care of this himself.


	10. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid is struggling with depression. And if you are in a bad spot mentally right now, I promise, it won't last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back after over a month? Life has been hectic, but I love this fic and have so many ideas. I'll keep working on it, and I already have plans for the sequel.

Hotch called him earlier, suggesting Reid take a week of sick leave. Except it wasn't really a suggestion. Reid doesn't even need to a psychic or whatever the fuck he is to know that.

It's only been two days... two days since that case. Over a month since... since Tobias... since he... since they both... died.

Reid burrows deeper into the covers. His mind has stopped racing, feeling too quiet instead. He doesn't remember what he dreamed about last night, if he even slept enough to dream. His body aches, his skin hot and dry. The sun is peaking through his curtains. According to his clock, it's late afternoon. He hasn't gotten up yet.

He should get up.

Reid doesn't move. Closing his eyes again instead. He shouldn't be tired. He's been in bed for almost nineteen hours. But somehow, he falls asleep again.

When he wakes, Reid's mouth is dry. He tries to swallow, but there's no saliva. He needs to drink water. That's all he needs to do. Get a drink of water, and he can go back to his bed.

He moves slowly, his body heavy and stiff as he shifts from underneath the covers. The air in his room feels too cold and stiff. He rubs at one of his eyes as he shuffles to the kitchen.

His hand shakes as he pours a glass of water and lifts it to his lips. He knows he should drink it slowly, but as soon as he takes the first sip, he can't stop himself from downing the glass. He refills it, holding it in his hands as he stands at the counter.

It feels too far to go back to bed now. Too hard to move. He doesn't know how long he stands there before he goes back to bed and curls up, his mind somehow buzzing despite the lack of feeling.

"Spencer Reid, you open this door right now!" There's a furious knocking on his front door, dampened by the walls of his room. Penelope's voice is distinct. "Spencer, if you do not open this door in the next minute, I will call Hotch and force him to have you take a psychological assessment! I do not want to involve Hotch anymore than he already is, but so help me, Spencer, open this door or I will!"

The banging continues as he stands and walks towards the door. He realizes he's in his pajamas, his teeth unbrushed and his hair sticking in every direction. It doesn't matter.

He opens the door, and Penelope sighs, examining him. He drops his head, refusing to meet her eyes as she comes in, holding out a coffee. "Have you eaten anything?" she asks.

"I had some water." Reid's voice is hoarse. He clears it and takes the coffee from her. He holds it between his hands, staring down at it.

Penelope tuts at him and heads over to his kitchen with her bag, pulling out a container of food and heating it up for him. "Well, I came prepared. I know you like the new Thai restaurant, so I got you some fried rice with chicken. I figure it won't be too spicy for you, but it is a bit more bland. I didn't know what else to get you, but hey! At least this won't be as heavy as noodles."

Reid watches her before looking down at his hand. The coffee is heavy in it, but warm. She brought it for him. Why? He's done nothing to deserve it. He hasn't even thanked her. His hand relaxes, the cup clattering to the floor and spilling coffee.

He sees her face drop as she grabs paper towels and scurries over. "No, I... I got it," he says kneeling down. He picks up the cup, staring at it as his eyes water.

"Spence, honey, look at me." Penelope kneels in front of him. Reid takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes tighter. "Can I touch you? Is that okay?" He nods, tears falling from his eyes. She places a hand on his back, and he collapses forward, letting Penelope support him as he shakes and cries. "I got you, Spencer. You're okay. You're safe." She takes a deep breath, her body shaking as she holds back a sob before letting it out.

"I'm making you cry," Spencer whispers, trying to pull away. Penelope lets go of him, but puts her hand over his as she sniffles. "Penelope... I-"

"Oh shush," she says gently wiping her tears away, looking up so not to smudge her makeup. "You didn't make me cry. I cried because I wanted to."

"But-"

"Nope," Penelope says. The microwave beeps, but she doesn't move. "Spencer, you don't have to apologize for feeling."

"I'm being a burden," he says, his voice cracking. He looks back down, pulling his hand away from her.

"Spencer Reid!" Penelope exclaims. "You could _never_ be a burden."

Reid stares at Garcia. He's been sick so many times, dragged her to an appointment he didn't even learn anything from, and made her cry. He's a burden.

"Your problem is you can only _see_." Penelope ruffles his hair, and he protests softly. "You can't tell what anyone's feeling, so you can't tell that I am doing this out of concern and love for you. I am doing this because I want you to get better, not because I have to. And even though you're not an empath, you're a _fucking profiler._ Look at me." Reid raises his eyes to her face. "Am I here because I want to be?" He examines her, looking for a tell, a twitch, anything. She stays steady, meeting his eyes. Penelope's still tearing up a bit. She's kneeling in a puddle of warm coffee staring at him, making sure it's okay before she reaches out and touches him, following his own signals. "Spencer Reid, you have to know that I _care_ about you, and I want you to get better. And I don't care how long it takes, or if I have to be there to help."

She's telling the truth. She's telling him the truth, but he can't believe it. He can't believe her. Why can't he believe her?

Penelope squeezes his hand. "Spencer, you're going to be okay. It's going to get easier. What do always tell victims, when you see them again?"

Reid looks up at her again, meeting her eyes. It's not often he is part of a trial, that he sees victims after a case. Some are thankful, some ignore him. If one breaks down, overwhelmed by the memories brought back by the trial... he always tries to get a chance to speak to them. To remind them...

"Progress isn't linear. That doesn't mean you haven't made progress."


	11. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Has it really been three months? Oops.

Reid's not exactly sure how or when it happens, but after taking off for a few weeks, Penelope starts coming over more. Staying later to make sure he actually goes to bed. Coming back in the morning with coffee to make sure he gets up and eats and brushes his teeth. And at a certain point, she starts staying in his guest room because it's easier.

And it gets easier for him to do things- take care of himself. With all the time off, he focuses on reading about trauma and therapy for trauma. Learns how to process what he's seen... what he's been through.

It gets easier. And without work, he hasn't been having any visions. Hasn't seen anything else. It makes life a little more normal.

But breaks don't last forever, and even if they did, he's getting restless. There's people out there who need help, and he can help them. He just needs to get back to work.

Penelope's in the spare bedroom, sleeping soundly, but Reid can't turn off his mind. There's so many possibilities of what will happen when he works a case again. But for now, there's no case. Tomorrow when he returns to work, he'll sit at his desk and do paperwork. Write profiles for other people. He doesn't need to worry about a case until it happens. He knows that. So he keeps reminding himself that it'll be okay until his mind calms down and he falls asleep.

It would logically make sense to drive with Penelope, but Spencer wakes up before her, for once, and even though it's barely five, he makes coffee, takes a shower, eats some breakfast, and drives to work. Penelope will be proud when she sees he's gone. Sees the coffee in the pot left for her and the plate in the sink from breakfast. Come to think of it, Spencer's proud of himself. He can't stop smiling on his way to work.

Of course, it's barely six and not even Hotch is in. In other words, it's real fucking early. But it's quiet and peaceful, so he gets to work. Loses himself in the words and papers.

Until his vision switches and he sees _himself sitting at his desk_ and it jolts his brain so much because it hasn't happened for weeks. But he feels himself speak in Hotch's voice. "Reid? You're in early."

 _Shit._ Can he even talk right now? From Hotch's eyes, he sees himself freeze and he forces a smile. "Hotch, you startled me." _Go back brain. Go back._

"Sorry to startle you. It's good to have you back." It's different when he feels Hotch smile than when he made himself smile. It's jarring. Not fun. But manageable.

"It's good to be back." Switching back is hard. It's not something he's ever forced himself to do. Not something he's ever consciously done. It just... happens.

He can see how uncomfortable he looks, but Hotch doesn't comment on it, probably thinking it's just hard for Spencer to be back. Which it is, but not being in his own body is way worse.

He feels Hotch nod and turn towards his office. When he closes the door behind him, Spencer sees the office from his own eyes again. His shoulders relax. Okay, so getting back into his own head is something he'll have to figure out. He can always ask Penelope to practice if she comes over. Which knowing her, she will.

Slowly, other people start arriving. JJ smiles at Reid and when she hugs him, it feels like everything really is okay. Morgan in true fashion just flashes a smile and says, "Welcome back pretty boy." Prentiss claps him on the shoulder, scaring the shit out of him, and gives a loud laugh as she walks back to her desk. Rossi smiles at him, saying, "Good to have you back kid."

And after that, it's like he never left. They work as normal, getting distracted sometimes and goofing off. Drinking way too much coffee. It's good. Content.

As predicted, Penelope comes over after work, but just to have dinner. They order in from a pizzeria and sit on the couch watching TV. Now would be a good time to ask her... she would be okay with it. It's not like he can read thoughts or anything. He'd just be seeing his apartment from a different perspective.

"Hey... Garcia?"

"Hm?" she turns to him, head cocked.

"Can I... well, this morning I accidentally got stuck in Hotch's head for a bit-"

Penelope snorts. "God, what was that like."

He smiles weakly. "But I realized I have no idea how to get back into my own head... or even leave it for that matter. Would it be alright with you... if I..." Reid gestures vaguely.

"Oh. Oh! Of course! Yea!" Garcia turns to him. "How does... how does it work? Like, what do I do?"

"I don't think you have to do anything..." He remembers how it happened with Hotch. Both times. That he was talking about him and then to him. "But if you think about me, it might help?"

"Alright." Garcia folds her hands in her lap and closes her eyes.

He clears his throat. "Penelope?"

"Yes love?"

"Can you keep your eyes open? So I can actually see when I switch?"

"Oh!" Her eyes snap open. "Of course!"

He smiles softly at her, then focuses on her. On what she's probably seeing. On the situation she's in. Trying to find a thought that connects him. Until his vision shifts and he sees himself sitting there with wide eyes.

"Spencer?" he feels himself say. "Are you okay?"

"Well, I did it." He sees his mouth move, hears his voice, but it's so disconnected. "Give me a second."

Okay, focus on himself. On the situation he's in. On who he is. Where he is. His vision flips back, showing Garcia's shocked face. "Spence?"

He laughs. Then laughs harder. "Okay," he says taking a deep breath. "Okay, I think I get it."

"Well, that's good? Are you okay?"

He shrugs. "It's a really weird feeling to see yourself talk but not feel yourself doing it. It's not something I like doing, but I guess I'll get used to it if I have to."

"Do you think you could do it again, with me further away? Like if something happened to me and you needed to figure out where I was?" Her voice is excited, her eyes lit up.

Reid nods. "Definitely. I do that all the time on accident. It should be easier with someone I actually know."

"Spence, you know what this means?" Her eyes are shining. "You're a superhero!"


End file.
